


Wind Around My Heart Like Ivy

by ContreParry



Series: Soulmate AU Collection [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Gen, Mentions of Anxiety, Mentions of PTSD, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 02:35:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13754463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ContreParry/pseuds/ContreParry
Summary: Cullen Stanton Rutherford has spent much of his adult life avoiding contact with his soulmate, but a chance encounter makes him reconsider his choices and think of the future.





	1. Chapter 1

Cullen Stanton Rutherford was never one for parties.

He never cared for crowds, even when he was a child. He was the second eldest of four siblings, and when he was growing up Cullen was just one of the horde of Rutherford children. It felt like he never had a moment’s peace. Every waking moment was filled with Mia’s nosy interrogations or Branson’s demands for games or Rosalie begging to be picked up and carried around. Sometimes he wanted some time to himself, and he could never find it in the family home in Honnleath. The house was constantly overrun with his siblings and everything that came with having siblings. Sometimes he needed quiet, and when he was growing up there were only two places he could find it.

His first quiet place was at the Chantry. The Templars stationed there took pity on a young boy looking for time away from his siblings. They let him sit in their headquarters and entertained his constant stream of questions. He had always wanted to help people, and spending time with the Templars in Honnleath convinced him that all he wanted in life was to protect and serve.

His second place was by Grimbly Pond in Old Prophet’s Woods, which started just past the Chantry. Cullen would wander over in that direction and spend his lazy summer days fishing and swimming in the large pond. Sometimes he lay on his back in the grass, staring up at the sky and the sunlight filtering through the trees. Those were the best moments, because when it was quiet and he was still enough, Cullen could have sworn that he felt a little tingle on his right wrist right where his soulmark wound up his arm like a vine. His Mark was the green of spring, and the little leaves on the vine looked like the ivy that grew on the Chantry’s ancient stone walls. Whenever Cullen felt that electric buzz on his skin he smiled and stroked the leaves with his finger. There was someone out there who would understand his need for quiet, someone who wouldn’t always demand everything of him. His soulmate would understand him- and he was going to understand them too. He would be a great Templar, and an even better soulmate.

Cullen was older now, and far wiser. He never developed a fondness for crowds, but he lost all illusions of being the soulmate partner of anyone’s dreams. He was barely able to tolerate himself most days. He lived in a state of dull monotony. He’d get up at dawn, jog around the block before getting ready for work, go to work, go home, then go for a long walk before returning home and going to bed. On Wednesdays he’d go out and drink a beer or two, and that was the limit of his social life. It wasn’t much of a life, Cullen thought with some bitterness, but it was far better than he deserved.

Perhaps his maudlin mood was due to the environment. Large gatherings made him feel awkward and uncertain, and he hardly had any friends in Kirkwall. He wasn’t the type to make fast friends, even before The Incident. He wouldn’t have cared for dressing up in a formal dark suit and making bland, polite conversation with acquaintances and strangers before then, but now it was just shy of intolerable. He was not a social person, crowds made him anxious, and he was counting the crawling hours until he could leave without causing a fuss.

So what was he even doing here?

Manners, Cullen thought. He was invited and it would be rude to refuse an invitation, especially when it was for a good cause. It would also make Monday morning at the office awkward if he didn’t come. Carver invited him, and Carver would give him so much shit if he didn’t show up to the semi-annual Hawke Charity Gala. He could almost hear the teasing now- Commander Cullen is such a workaholic that he couldn’t even part from his work for an evening of hobnobbing with the wealthy and titled all in the name of raising money for sick children. Commander Cullen probably sleeps in his office. Commander Cullen doesn’t sleep at all.

Cullen frowned and stepped ever closer to the floor to ceiling Orlesian style windows along the wall. Too many people, too many sounds, too much color- he couldn’t focus, couldn’t think, and there was such a crush of bodies that he couldn’t locate the entrances and exits. If something were to happen he would have to find cover. If something burst through the windows, Cullen would overturn the antique enameled pedestal table that had a large floral arrangement in the center. If the danger came from the center of the room, he would duck behind the leather sofa. If it was- no, he had to stop this! It wasn’t healthy to always prepare for random demon and mortal attacks. He couldn’t live like this! 

Cullen watched as two women who looked rather familiar hurried into the room, pulling a set of the Orlesian windows out so they could strut into the room. Doors, Cullen corrected himself. The dark haired lady wearing a golden evening gown whispered something into her companion’s ear, and the other woman laughed. As they moved past him Cullen caught a faint whiff of one of the women’s perfume. Roses.

His stomach lurched.

Without thinking he moved, walking out of the ballroom to stand outside on a raised terrace that overlooked the estate gardens. He carefully shut the doors behind him and breathed in the night air. A cool breeze touched his face and ruffled his hair, and now he could smell the scent of freshly mown grass and night blooming jasmine. Maker help him, all of the noise and color and people and it was a bit of perfume that set him off! He frowned and leaned against the stone balustrade. The stone was cold against his hands. He breathed slowly and evenly, stared out at the garden, and started to count the dim outlines of trees. When he reached twenty six he could finally breathe calmly without forcing it.

There was movement in the treeline near the eastern stairs, and Cullen leaned over the balustrade to get a better look at what it was. Who it was, he corrected himself, for two figures stumbled out of the trees and bushes, holding hands and walking along the path heading towards the Hawke mansion. Bits of their conversation drifted up to him.

“You are impossible! This is an important gala!” A man exclaimed in a low voice as he walked with his companion.

“Not my fault you look good in a tux, babe.” His companion replied. His voice was terribly familiar, and when Cullen heard the man laugh he realized that he knew exactly who he was. Knowing the second man identified the first one, and gave Cullen a very good idea of what he overheard.

“You just- just-” The first man sputtered indignantly, and now Cullen could pick up the faint northern accent in his voice. “You- us- outside!”

“No one noticed, Felix.” Carver Hawke assured his soulmate. “And no one is going to get in a hissy fit over us walking in my mum’s garden.”

“Everyone is going to know that we were not walking.” Felix retorted. “I think you made that very, very clear.”

“Hmm.” Carver hummed, and Cullen quickly retreated down the stairs to his right. He was not going to run into his coworker and his soulmate after their romantic rendezvous in the garden, thank you very much. There was only so much awkwardness Cullen could stand in one evening, and dealing with blissfully happy Carver Hawke and his surprisingly likeable soulmate Felix was just too much. He already had to deal with Carver’s surprisingly sweet monologues about how brilliant Felix was, and every monologue felt like needles stabbing at Cullen’s skin. Others can have soulmates and be happy, the crueler parts of his mind taunted, but not you. Never you.

Thinking about soulmates and romance gave him a headache, and the mark that wrapped snakelike around his right wrist burned. He hurried down the gravel path that wound further into the garden, losing himself in shrubbery and ornamental fruit trees and whatever else was kept in a proper Kirkwall garden. Though there were electric lights in the garden beds and there was ample light from the mansion, the garden was in a state of perpetual twilight. The trees cast long shadows on the path, shadows where anything could hide. Cullen fought down the tendrils of anxiety that gripped at him. No. He would not panic. 

Wandering in the garden was different than viewing it from up above. The paths snaked around trees and statues, and Cullen felt more than a little disoriented. It was all the shadows and the panic he had earlier, Cullen told himself. It was messing with his perception of- of everything. Perhaps he should find a bench and sit down to gather his wits before he returned to the house. Pleased with this rudimentary plan, Cullen turned a corner-

\- And slammed into something that came up to his chest.

“Oof!” The something- someone- exclaimed. “Oww.” The someone was a woman. A small woman, and she had barreled right into him when he was turning on the path. And now she was sprawled out on the ground, a small black shape on the gravel.

“I’m sorry. Are you well?” Cullen replied automatically, kneeling down to help the woman sit up. The woman pushed herself into a sitting position without his help. Cullen tried to get a good look at her and see if she was injured, but the lack of light dimmed everything into a wash of grey and black.

“Fine. Serves me right, running around like an idiot in the dark.” The woman said easily. “But if you would be so kind as to give me a hand up, we’ll be squared.”

“Where you running from someone? Do you need help?” Cullen asked as he stood up and offered the woman his hand. She took it and he helped her stand.

“No, I wanted to enjoy some quiet time before going inside. Then I was distracted by the azaleas- those are such a challenge to grow in this soil, you know- and I lost track of time and now-” The woman chuckled. It was low and warm, like a cat’s purr.

“I may have wandered a little too far into the garden and couldn’t find my way back.” She finished, and she took a step and wobbled. “Oww. Stupid shoes.”

“You’re hurt.” Cullen replied automatically, reaching out to steady the woman.

“Not by you. It’s this dratted footwear. Stupid heels.” The woman muttered.

“Why did you wear them if you hate them so much?” Cullen asked, knowing that it was a foolish question the moment it left his lips. He had sisters. They had a dozen and a half incomprehensible reasons for doing whatever they did, and the answer he always received (the one answer that he should accept without question) was “because I wanted to.”

“Because I’m short. I’m as small as a pigeon. Or mouse. I need these extra millimeters.” She said easily. “And I’m told these heels make my legs look nice- but they really aren’t suited for anything beyond sitting or standing in place like a statue. I have so many blisters.”

“I’ll help you to a bench so you can see to your injuries.” Cullen offered, and he looped the woman’s arm over his shoulder so they could walk. She was short, even with the addition of her high heels, and Cullen had to stoop down to assist her as they walked down the garden path.

“You make them sound like battle wounds.” She laughed again, bright and bold and Cullen immediately wanted to make her laugh again. “I like that.”

“Perhaps you can be granted medals of valor for attending the soirée tonight.” He suggested.

“Perhaps! There should be a large fountain at the center of this maze. I ran into it about a dozen times trying to get out of here.” The woman said. “We can sit there, I can dip my feet in, and you can feel nice and chivalrous for helping me.”

“You have this well planned.” Cullen remarked, but he followed the path and the plan. He would have done the same had he been in charge. They were both silent as they walked, though every few steps the woman hissed as if in pain.

“I could carry you.” He offered, but the woman shook her head.

“Please don’t. The humiliation will kill me.” She said. Cullen couldn’t help smiling at the dry response, but he continued to help her walk down the path. They rounded another corner and entered a clearing. It was lit by several lamps, and the brightness was a bit blinding to his eyes. He had adjusted to walking around in the shadowy haze of the garden in the evening. A large fountain with a wide lip sat in the center of a round clearing. Cullen helped the woman to the fountain. She gingerly sat down and took off her shoes, then dipped her feet into the fountain. Cullen got a better look of the woman now. Her dark hair was braided and twisted into a big knot that sat at the nape of her neck. She wore a long sleeved green dress that looked remarkably tidy even though she had taken a tumble into the gravel. Her shoes were monstrous creations of black leather with heels so tall and slender that he couldn’t help but wonder if they would break if anyone dared to put them on. 

She was carefully examining her feet, lifting one out of the water. Cullen winced as he saw the damage, for some of her skin was blistered and rubbed raw. A strand of her dark her fell against her round cheek. Pretty, Cullen thought. She was rather pretty. Maker, what was he supposed to say now?

“Ah, that’s better.” She declared, and she looked up at him and grinned. “Thank you for your help, noble sir.”

“Cullen. Please.” Cullen managed to say. Her eyes were wide and round and dark like a doe’s, all sweet and innocent, but there was a sparkle to them that was a little mischievous. She seemed familiar, though he couldn’t think of where he had seen her before. Cullen couldn’t think of what to say, so he just shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other.

“Hello, Cullen. I’m Evelyn.” She held out one slim hand out to him, and Cullen hesitantly took it. Evelyn’s skin was dark and her hand calloused, and her grip was strong. And perhaps it was his imagination, but Cullen thought- he felt something akin to an electric shock when they touched. Yet this shock was nothing like he had felt before. It was more like a tingle, and it spread from his hand and down his arm through his entire body. He couldn’t let go- no, he could. He simply didn’t want to. It felt- it felt nice. How long had it been since touching someone had felt pleasant? Too long.

Evelyn looked up at him with her dark eyes. She seemed curious, and a faint blush flushed her round cheeks. She opened her mouth, shut it, and then gestured to the lip of the fountain with her free hand.

“Want to sit down?” She asked. “Unless I’m delaying you from returning to the party.”

“No. That is, I’m not delayed.” Cullen said hastily, and he let go of her hand. He instantly missed the warmth and connection. He carefully took a seat next to Evelyn and tried to get comfortable. The stone was cold, even through the thick fabric of his dress pants.

“To tell the truth, I was making an escape.” Cullen confessed. “I’ve never been one for social events.”

“Me too!” Evelyn exclaimed. “That is, everyone I know here brought a partner and I couldn’t stand being the awkward third wheel. So I went to the gardens for a bit and got myself lost.”

“The crowd was-” Cullen glanced towards the mansion off in the distance. “Too much noise. Too many people, and I hardly know any of them. I needed a moment to gather myself before facing that again.”

“Kirkwall’s high society is a mighty foe to take on.” Evelyn agreed solemnly, but she was grinning at him. Cullen couldn’t help but envision Hawke as a mighty dragon perched on the mansion, roaring and demanding that everyone come to the estate and be charitable.

“Hawke can be rather intimidating.” Cullen finally said diplomatically. “I couldn’t refuse.”

“I’m here for appearances. My grandmere would scold me if I declined the invitation.” Evelyn asked. “Lady Leandra was the one who invited me and I was expected to attend. Not that I mind normally! I’m not a recluse, I just-”

“Would rather not be at a party tonight.” Cullen finished. “I understand.”

“I’m no good at being elegant. I can dress and act the part well enough, but it takes all my concentration to do so.” Evelyn confessed. “And you saw how well that worked out!”

“You could have fooled me. You seem remarkably elegant and composed.” Cullen said. Was she nobility? It would make sense if she was- she was invited by Lady Amell, of course she had to be nobility! He hardly knew what to say to her now- how did one speak to gently bred noblewomen? Templar training never covered that situation! Demon attacks and blood magic, yes, but polite conversation was not part of the curriculum.

“You’re being generous. That’s nice of you.” Evelyn laughed again. “It’s strange. I feel so… relieved. You didn’t want to be here, just like me! I feel much more comfortable knowing I’m not alone.”

“We are two misanthropes in a pod.” Cullen said, and he hoped the comment would make Evelyn laugh. He liked her laugh. It gave him a thrill when he managed to give her a reason to smile.

“You hardly seem like a misanthrope! You helped me, after all!” Evelyn exclaimed, but she was smiling. “Rescuing me from my own clumsiness.”

“You aren’t clumsy, we ran into each other.” Cullen said automatically. He didn’t know why he said it, really. He hardly knew Evelyn. Yet he was certain she was not clumsy, and that her self deprecation was not as light as she made it sound.

“Because I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Evelyn retorted.

“We were in the dark. Anyone would collide.” Cullen replied. “So we are equally to blame for running into each other.”

“You’re very determined to take the blame for me being foolish.” Evelyn said.

“You’re very determined to pretend to play the fool.” Cullen stated. Evelyn was silent for a moment, but before Cullen wondered if he should apologize for his criticism she sighed. She looked a little solemn, a little sad, but not upset. At least, she didn’t seem upset with him.

“I suppose I am. Sometimes you’re told something so much that you start to believe it.” Evelyn murmured, but she shook her head and looked up at him with those big dark eyes. Then she smiled, and Cullen smiled back. When was the last time he had smiled? Maker’s Breath, he couldn’t even remember!

“Thank you, Cullen. I should go inside and find bandages for my feet. And ointment.” Evelyn winced as she drew her feet out of the water. The skin still looked raw.

“I’ll help you back.” Cullen offered. “You really shouldn’t put those shoes on, you’ll break an ankle out here.”

“I- I would appreciate that.” Evelyn said, and her voice held a note of surprise, as if she hadn’t expected his help. She raised her hand up to him, and Cullen took it. He pulled her off the fountain and looped her arm around his shoulders. Her breath came out in a sharp hiss, and Evelyn stumbled. Her weight dropped onto Cullen’s shoulders as she tried to regain her footing.

“Drat.” She muttered. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Cullen said automatically. “I can-”

“Please don’t swoop me up. That’s entirely too romantic and we were avoiding all that.” Evelyn insisted. “I can walk, just give me a moment.” She took one step, then another, wincing as the gravel bit into her feet.

“You can’t walk this distance back to the mansion.” Cullen argued. “Your pride can take it.”

“Ugh, you’re being sensible. Very well.” Evelyn looped her right arm around his neck and let him pick her up. It really was rather romantic, Cullen thought, and he felt his cheeks flush with heat and color. It was just the atmosphere, he told himself. A beautiful garden in the evening, a pretty woman in distress- atmosphere and nothing more. Yet the romantic atmosphere had unnerved him- what did he say? How did he make this go away? What should he do?

“If you recite love poems I’ll jump out of your arms and crawl back to the house.” Evelyn warned, and the dry statement made him laugh and forget what he was so worried about. He started to navigate the garden paths, making his way back to the Hawke mansion.

“I can put you down when we reach the stairs. That would kill the romantic mood. Or I can offer to dance with you and step all over your feet.” Cullen suggested.

“Yes. We can come up with horrible insults and call each other names too!” Evelyn chuckled. “Fair warning, though, I’m not a creative name caller!”

“No siblings?” Cullen asked. “I had plenty of experience with awful nicknames because of mine.”

“I have six older brothers, but we never spent much time together.” Evelyn said with a shrug that Cullen felt more than saw. “Boarding schools, and the three eldest are much older than me.”

“Six brothers? And I thought being one of four was bad! We were always in each other’s business! Drove me mad as a boy.” Cullen whistled. “How did you manage?”

“I was sent to school when I was eight. I felt more like an only child than one of the brood.” Evelyn replied. “Ah! There’s the house!” Evelyn pointed towards the mansion with her free hand, her shoes dangling from her fingers and banging together with soft, dull thuds.

“It was this close the entire time. I wonder why I couldn’t find the exit before.” Evelyn murmured. Her words were so soft that Cullen knew they weren’t meant for him. He walked to the end of the stairs and gently deposited Evelyn down on her feet.

“Keep your arm around my shoulders. I’ll help you up and we can ask someone to fetch Lady Amell.” Cullen said, and Evelyn nodded her head. Evidently her feet had been hurting her far more than she had let on. Cullen took the stairs slowly and helped Evelyn with every step.

“And they say chivalry is dead.” Evelyn observed.

“If I am ever incapacitated at an event I hope others would help me.” Cullen replied. “It’s hardly chivalry.”

“The next time we attend the same party and you need help, I’ll help you. Deal?” Evelyn declared as they cleared the top of the stairs and stood on the terrace. Evelyn hobbled over to the balustrade and hoisted herself up. Her feet dangled in the air, and she looked at Cullen solemnly before offering her hand. He took it and she shook his hand firmly.

“Deal. You may rescue me as you see fit.” Cullen promised. He let go of her hand and stepped back. He should go and find Lady Amell, or perhaps Carver or even Hawke. He should get help, but he found himself reluctant to leave her side.

“Evelyn? Evelyn, where have you been? Leliana and I were looking everywhere for you- goodness, what happened to your feet?” A woman exclaimed, and in a flurry of shimmering fabric the lady in the gold dress that he saw earlier in the evening elbowed her way to Evelyn’s side, fussing and tutting. Her Antivan accent grew more and more pronounced as she spoke.

“It’s a long story, Josephine.” Evelyn said. “May I introduce Cullen to you? He helped me find my way back up here.”

“She needs bandages for her injuries.” Cullen informed the new woman, Josephine. Josephine was one of those painfully elegant women that Cullen never knew what to do with. She glanced down at Evelyn’s blistered feet, winced, and nodded.

“That is easily taken care of. Thank you for your assistance.” Josephine said politely, but she peered up at his face and stared a little too long. She seemed to recognize him, but said nothing, for which Cullen was grateful. He didn’t want to be Ser Cullen Rutherford, Acting Knight-Commander of Kirkwall. He just wanted to be Cullen, just for one night. He wanted to be Cullen to Evelyn, who did not recognize him or demand information. He just wanted. Was that wrong?

“Thanks for your help, Cullen.” Evelyn said as her friend sighed and signaled to a waitress with a plate full of champagne glasses. She murmured something to her, and the waitress nodded and left the terrace. It would grow crowded soon, Cullen realized. People would crowd the terrace to help Evelyn, there would be noise and light, and he still found himself unable to deal with the overwhelming sensations of a rowdy crowd.

“Thank you for your company, Evelyn. Take care of those blisters.” Cullen said softly. Evelyn looked up at him, surprise etched on her features. She frowned, and her eyebrows knitted together into a sharp looking V shape.

“Where are you going?” Evelyn asked.

“Going to be an introvert and go home.” Cullen replied, keeping his tone light. Evelyn did not press, for which Cullen was grateful. She wasn’t pushy. She didn’t demand. She accepted his response and let him breathe.

“Lucky. You’re escaping early.” Evelyn stated. Josephine, who was occupied with looking over Evelyn’s scuffed footwear, gasped.

“Evelyn! I’m sorry, she isn’t normally so- it must be the champagne!” Josephine explained hastily.

“I haven’t had a drop, Josie, and you know it.” Evelyn replied easily. “And Cullen doesn’t like parties either. We’re kindred spirits on the subject.” And when Josephine rolled her eyes, Evelyn winked at Cullen.

“Hurry and escape before someone tries to draw you into small talk, or make you dance!” Evelyn dropped her voice into a faux-whisper. Cullen laughed, and Evelyn’s grin made something akin to butterflies flutter in his stomach.

“Good night, Evelyn.” Cullen murmured.

“Good night, Cullen.” Evelyn replied, and Cullen finally forced himself to walk away. He could hear Josephine whisper something to Evelyn, but he couldn’t hear what she said. He made his way back to his car and drove away from the mansion, making his way down the winding roads to his apartment complex. While he drove, Cullen marveled at how easy he felt around Evelyn, how self-assured and comfortable in his own skin he was. He felt a connection, an understanding that he could not begin to explain, and Cullen didn’t know how a complete stranger understood him better than people who knew him for years. Kindred spirits indeed!

That night, when he lay in his bed and stared up at the ceiling, Cullen realized that his soulmark didn’t ache at all.

-

It was nearly two weeks after the Hawke Charity Gala and Cullen was working on another case that involved demons wandering about in a condemned building. He was filling out the proper forms to organize a search party and looking over the case file reports. Cullen was also battling a raging headache at the same time, and his headache wasn’t helped by the constant ache of his soulmark around his wrist. It pounded with every thud of his head, and he hated it. _Hated_ it!

The business of soulmates was a complicated one, part legend, part rumor, all mixed with rumor and romanticism and mystery. Thousands upon thousands of years of documentation, and soulmarks were still a mystery. No one could quite figure out how they worked. Some people shared nothing but the marks that connected them. There was documentation of some partners who could communicate through dreams, and then others who had connections so strong they could feel everything at every moment.

But Cullen? Cullen got burned.

No, that was uncharitable. His mark did not always burn. Sometimes it was cool and soothing, other times it was warm, as if a hand was wrapped around his wrist, gently holding him. But sometimes it burned him. Sometimes it was painful. Cullen was jealous of the people who felt nothing from their marks.

He often entertained the possibility that meeting his soulmate would heal the mark, but he had a list of reasons for why the idea should never become anything more than an idea. There was a damned good reason he kept his soulmate files locked when he reached adulthood. So when the guilt licked at his conscious Cullen recited his detailed treatise on why contacting his soulmate was a terrible idea.

One: He was a Templar devoted to the Order.

Even though he struggled with his responsibilities and felt the sting of Knight Commander Stannard’s cruelty bite at him, Cullen was loyal. He knew the Templars could be a force for good. Someone needed to hunt down demons and keep people safe when magic turned dangerous. He wanted to do what was right. His soulmate should not be shackled to him and his life choices. They deserved better.

Two: His soulmate was a Mage.

Cullen could not confirm this without seeing their records, but his soulmate’s records had never been delivered to him. He was notified every time someone tried to access his records, but otherwise they had been silent. Either they took perverse joy in languishing around waiting for Cullen to open his records (which would never happen) or they were a Mage and he, as the non-Mage partner, was legally required to initiate contact. Which he hadn’t. And he wouldn’t, not after- not After.

Before he realized that his soulmate was a Mage, Cullen would daydream about the future. He would find his soulmate, they would love each other, they would be happy. It was simple and uncomplicated. 

But then the Blight happened, and the Tower he was stationed at was overrun by Darkspawn and demons. The Mages who served alongside him had been killed alongside the Templars, and the desperate ones summoned demons. They wanted to save them. Cullen knew they only wanted to protect the few who remained at the Tower, but it didn’t work. When he and the few survivors managed to escape from the demons that turned on them and crawl out of the ruins of the Tower, they were changed forever. And Cullen realized, like a strike of lightning, why his soulmate never sent him their records. Why they had only tried to seek him out and why they were stopped every time. They were a Mage. Mages couldn’t make first contact with a non-mage soulmate. Mages couldn’t demand anything of a non-mage soulmate. Mages were dangerous, as he had just witnessed and experienced.

After The Incident at Kinloch’s Tower Cullen decided to have his files sealed. Templars and Mages should not mix. Must not mix. He wondered what was wrong with him that he had a Mage soulmate. Why did the Maker match him with a Mage? Was he doomed to face demons and terror for the rest of his existence? For years after Kinloch Cullen could not bear the fact that he had a Mage soulmate, so he pretended he didn’t have a soulmate at all. The casual cruelty he showed towards Mages stemmed from fear, and Cullen was especially fearful of his soulmate.

Cullen refused to take a break from his duties after Kinloch. Where could he go? Honnleath had been bombed out during the Blight. His entire family moved to South Reach, and they were scrambling for shelter and work and didn’t need another broken thing to fix on top of their troubles. Cullen was desperate to serve, to prove that he hadn’t been ruined, so ended up in Kirkwall under the command of Knight Commander Stannard. Cullen never told Meredith that his soulmate was a Mage. Something inside him- shame, perhaps- kept him from saying anything beyond “I am dedicated to my work.” Now Cullen wondered if there was a part of him that recognized that he- and perhaps his soulmate- were at risk had Meredith known the truth. Even when he was tangled in the midst of his rage and terror and the spiral of hatred that he was falling down, Cullen wondered if he had realized that on some level he was fucked up and needed help.

And then there was the third reason he knew communication with his soulmate was a terrible idea, and it was tangled up with reason number two: Cullen was terrified of magic, and he had to pull himself together before he even attempted to make contact with his soulmate. He was busy putting Kirkwall’s Templar Order back to rights, he was busy regaining the trust of a city that had no reason to trust the Templars ever again, he was busy trying to put aside his fear and do what was right instead of what was expected. Cullen was busy, he was stretched in a million different directions, so he couldn’t pull a soulmate into the equation. It wasn’t right.

So in the end Cullen decided that keeping his soulmate file sealed was for the best. He rubbed the sore soulmark around his wrist, pale green ivy vines that scorched his skin to the bone. The decision never sat comfortably with him. He could justify, argue, defend, and explain why he kept his soulmate away from him, but it was never good enough. He knew it wasn’t right to keep such a tight grip over his soulmate’s fate- he knew his soulmate requested his files once a year every year, as if this time it would be different. As if this year Cullen would open his files and his heart to his soulmate. He never did, of course, but the guilt ate at him. He kept his soulmate forever in waiting for him- and it wasn’t right. Yet he couldn’t let his soulmate close- he wasn’t ready, he could only hurt his soulmate because he was wrong, he was broken and wrong, wrong, wrong-

“Commander?” Carver said, knocking on his open door and leaning against the doorframe. “You’ve got a visitor.” Carver’s sudden appearance broke Cullen out of his brooding, and he frowned and turned his attention back to the paperwork on his desk. Yes. Work. He had work to do.

“Tell them I’m busy.” Cullen said automatically as he turned another page in the file and scanned it.

“Don’t think she’ll take that for an answer.” Carver said easily, and Cullen looked up at him. Carver had a wide smirk on his face, and it looked just like his older brother’s. Carver might deny it, but the Hawke family looked like a family. Cullen opened his mouth to repeat that he was busy, damn it all, when an achingly familiar loud voice rang through his office.

“Stop being a grump, Cullen!” A woman declared, and his older sister shoved her way past Carver and into his office in all of her brazen glory. Her hair, as golden and curly as his, fluffed around her face and shoulders like a bright halo, and her smile was wide and welcoming as ever. Mia. Mia was here- but why? Cullen glanced at the calendar on his desk and winced. The date was circled in red ink, and he had scribbled “Mia Visits” in the corner. How had he forgotten? Oh. Right. He buried himself in his work to forget everything else in his life. Again.

“So this is where my baby brother lives!” Mia exclaimed, and she glanced over at his desk and tutted disapprovingly. “How many cups of coffee this morning, Cullen?”

“It’s hardly your business, Mia.” Cullen retorted. Just like Mia to immediately hone in on his less than stellar habits. She couldn’t fault him for messiness or laziness, so she would pick at his caffeine habit.

“Four.” Carver offered. “Would have been five but Rylen forgot to make more.”

“Cullen.” Mia said sternly, but her eyes softened and she looked a bit sad. The expression knifed at Cullen’s heart. Mia was a worrier, though she hid it under layers of bossiness. The phrase “I’m your sister and I care about you!” was permanently etched into his mind.

“Don’t even start, Mia.” Cullen groaned. “ Hawke, leave.”

“No, I think I’ll stay.” Carver said with a grin on his face. “Don’t want to miss the show.”

Yes, Cullen thought sourly as he glared at his fellow Templar. Carver ignored him. Carver Hawke was exactly like his brother. He was great at his job, but he had the irritating habit of being- well, being irritating.

“Carver Hawke, if you don’t leave I will assign you to patrols in Hightown at lunch time, right in front of the offices of the Kirkwall Herald.” Cullen growled out, but the threat achieved the desired results. Carver may have rolled his eyes, but he moved out of his doorway and walked back to his own office. Mia took one look at Cullen and his desk, and placed her hand on his shoulder. Her grip was firm. He couldn’t shake it off.

“Take the day off. We’re getting lunch.” Mia said.

“Sorry Mia. I forgot that you were coming in today.” Cullen murmured apologetically. He had marked his sister’s visit on his calendar, of course he should have remembered. Yet, between the mess in Kirkwall, the demands of his job, and his own personal troubles, Mia’s visit had fallen between the cracks.

“That’s what I thought, when you didn’t answer your door or your phone. You still turn it off at work?” Mia asked. 

“I can’t take pleasure calls when I’m working.” Cullen retorted. Mia laughed.

“I’m hardly a pleasure call, I’m an annoyance and you know it!” Mia announced, and she dragged Cullen up to his feet. “C’mon, lunch. Tell me everything.” Mia pulled him out of his office and to his car, and Cullen let her bully him into going to her favorite restaurant in the area, an Orlesian cafe that served delicious sandwiches.

“Look, they may be Orlesian but the bread is to die for.” Mia said as she tore at the crispy baguette with gusto. Cullen nibbled on a fry and waited for Mia to talk. She looked like she wanted to say something, and was nearly bursting with the need to speak. But Mia bounced in her seat, impatiently waiting for Cullen to speak. He ate another fry.

“So, do you have any plans today?” Mia finally asked when the silence was too much to bear.

“No. I forgot you were coming so I didn’t make an itinerary.” Cullen replied.

“Oh, good! I made my own, so today we’re going to go here, here, and here!” Mia said as she reached into her giant tote bag of a purse and pulled out a sheaf of papers. She laid them out for Cullen’s perusal. He looked at the papers, then back to Mia.

“Houses. We’re looking at… houses?” Cullen asked. Was Mia planning to relocate to Kirkwall? Maker help him, was she going to uproot the entire family and drag them across the sea to Kirkwall? No. Absolutely not. Cullen would get a transfer. He loved his family, but they couldn’t see him like this. They couldn’t see what he had been, what he’d become-

“No, idiot. Read!” Mia retorted. Cullen scanned Mia’s notes in the margins of the papers. Good breeding line. Proven lineage. Even temperament. Smart. Good with people.

“A dog. You want to get a dog.” Cullen stated.

“For you, Cullen! Didn’t your therapist say a service dog would help you?” Mia asked.

“She did.” Cullen muttered. “And I said-”

“That you would rather pick and train a dog yourself, I know.” Mia finished his sentence quickly. “So, we’re going to spend the next few days finding one and fixing your apartment up for them! Then we can enroll you in classes, get you all sorted-”

“Mia. I haven’t agreed to anything.” Cullen interrupted his sister’s enthusiastic rambling. Mia snorted inelegantly, and she gazed critically at him from across the table. Her brown eyes were the same color as his, a warm brown the same shade as the antique mahogany porcelain cabinet his mother’s grandmother handed down to her. Their mother always said they made the same faces when they were annoyed, that their eyes narrowed the same way and their eyebrows furrowed in an identical manner. It was said to be intimidating, a look passed down from their mother, her mother, and an entire lineage of mothers, and many a Templar had cowered in terror when Cullen turned The Stanton Rutherford Glare on them. Mia just snorted and returned fire. It was an Antivan standoff.

“It’s only looking, Cullen.” Mia said. “No harm in looking.”

“I will be looking. You will be looking with the expectation that I will adopt a dog.” Cullen replied. “A dog that I have no space for.”

“Nug shit. I’ve seen your apartment, you’ve got room.” Mia retorted. Cullen sighed and ate another fry. How could he explain to Mia his apprehension? He’d show up at a place looking for a service dog (service dog!) and then he’d get those looks. Those pitying, faux-sympathetic looks. And the people would tiptoe around him and whisper behind their hands. There goes Interim Knight Commander Cullen. He looks exhausted. I hear he doesn’t sleep. How guilty do you think he is? He didn’t want it. He didn’t want any of it. His soulmark throbbed and Cullen rubbed his thumb absentmindedly across the green vines. Mia’s sharp eyes did not miss the gesture.

“Hurting again?” Mia asked.

“Won’t stop aching. It gets like this sometimes.” Cullen said quietly. He did not add that the soulmark ache was at its most painful right before his soulmate sent their requests to access his records through an agency. The pain would dull for a short while, and then flare up again two weeks later. It happened every year, and Cullen was already anticipating the pain now. It was routine.

“Cullen.” Mia already sounded like she was going to scold him, and Cullen wasn’t going to put up with it.

“Mia, don’t start.” Cullen sighed.

“You haven’t talked to them yet?” Mia questioned.

“No. It’s not a good time.” Cullen said. He kept it brief. He couldn’t say more.

“If we went by your schedule it will never be a good time!” Mia exclaimed. She frowned, and her eyes went soft and a little wet, and Cullen’s heart tightened. Mia wasn’t the sort to get weepy eyed over anyone- she was Mia! She kicked his ass at chess and was bossy and demanding and she once climbed up onto the roof so she could hang Branson’s smallclothes on the chimney. Mia was bold and didn’t cry, not ever! Cullen cleared his throat and shuffled the papers.

“Mia…” Cullen murmured. “I’m trying. It’s just… I need time.”

“Cullen, you have no idea how lucky you are, that you have a soulmate who is still _trying_ after all this time. They still want to know you!” Mia said, and her voice cracked with emotion. Cullen hesitantly reached over the table and took his sister’s hand. She grabbed on and squeezed his hand hard.

“So!” Mia announced after she pulled herself together. “Which place first?”

Cullen looked down at the papers and considered Mia’s question. All these breeders, all this formality, and puppies. So many puppies. And while Cullen liked the idea of puppies he knew he was unprepared for the reality of owning and training a puppy. But then his eye drifted over one paper in particular, and he moved it to the top of the stack.

“Paw-demonium Animal Sanctuary.” Cullen said firmly, and he tapped the paper twice with his finger to emphasize his decision. “We go here first.” He would prefer adopting an older dog over a puppy. Everyone wanted puppies. Older dogs were harder to find homes for. Maybe the dog was too old to be trained, maybe he was wasting his time, but at least he’d have done something good if he adopted an older dog. Puppies always had someone who wanted them. Older dogs, not so much.

“Right! We’re going to find the cutest dog!” Mia enthused. Cullen returned to his meal, but he couldn’t help the smile on his face. He was looking forward to going to the shelter with Mia, and Cullen hadn’t felt that sort of eagerness since the Hawke charity gala and running into Evelyn. It was as if their short meeting had broken open something inside him, something that made him feel beyond the greyness that he had cocooned himself in. For the first time in weeks Cullen was looking forward to what was coming next.

-

Paw-demonium Animal Sanctuary was a renovated warehouse painted in bright colors and covered in murals of prancing animals- fluttering birds, prancing cats, nugs rolling about in the dirt, mabari chasing sticks. It was cheerful and a bit much, but Cullen liked it. He also liked the enormous outdoor space that peeked out from behind the warehouse. It seemed like a pleasant enough place. While Mia explained what they were there for, Cullen looked through the shelves of pet supplies for sale. On the wall right next to the door someone put up a bulletin board covered in pictures of all the adoptable animals. Cullen looked through the pictures of happy dogs and sleepy cats and playful nugs, and he grinned at some of the sillier pictures. He particularly liked the one of the sleeping cat surrounded by toys.

“Cullen, she’s going to take us back to the kennels for a look!” Mia called out, and she pointed to the giant Qunari woman standing next to her. The woman was tall, far taller than him, and her horns gleamed black. She looked rather stern and a little frightening, and he thought of every Chantry horror story he had ever heard about the Qunari. But then Cullen noticed her hair. Rather, he noticed her hair pins, which were shaped in little daisies and bunnies and stuck in her hair at random areas to hold her bun in place. Suddenly she seemed a good deal less frightening.

“You’re looking for dogs?” The woman asked, and when she smiled Cullen noticed her dimples.

“Yes.” Cullen replied. “My sister insisted I start the search today.”

“Cole’s back in the kennels cleaning up, don’t mind him. He’s a little odd but means well.” The woman explained as she opened the door. “Your sister told me that you’re looking for a service dog.”

“Yes. I want to train them myself, but it’s hardly a requirement.” Cullen explained.

“You’re lucky, we have a lot of mabari here, and they make fantastic service dogs and family pets!” The woman enthused as they walked down a hallway lined with glass doors and windows. Cullen peered into one and saw a black dog snoozing on a large dog bed, pointy ears twitching in sleep.

“Cullen lives in an apartment. Is there enough space for a mabari?” Mia asked. Cullen nearly rolled his eyes. He knew his sister, and he knew that she knew all about mabari and there was no way she didn’t know the answer to that question. He glanced over at her and saw the coy way she was looking up at the Qunari woman from under her dark eyelashes, and the way she twirled a strand of curly gold hair around her finger. She was flirting! Cullen would tease her, but Mia would probably elbow him in the gut. Even as a fully grown woman she still had sharp elbows.

“Oh, yes, as long as they get a proper amount of exercise! Mabari are generally pretty mellow.” The woman replied. Mia smiled and drew the woman into further conversation as they walked. Cullen hung back and looked through the kennel windows until he abruptly stopped and stared at one dog in particular.

The dog was a mabari with a blue grey coat and a large splash of white on his chest. His ears were cocked, one floppy and the other pointed up, and he was sleeping on his bed, giant paws waving wildly in the air as he chased dream rabbits. The mabari’s head was enormous, and his toys seemed impossibly small next to him. Cullen read through the dog’s bio taped on the window.

Bear  
Type: Dog  
Breed: Mabari  
Sex: Male  
Color: Blue / White  
Spayed / Neutered: Yes  
Owner Surrender  
Adoption Fee: 30 Silver  
A Little About Bear:

Hi! I’m a big sweetheart who loves a good walk and a snuggle! I’d love to get more plush toys to play with, and I like playing with all my dog friends. Come visit with me and see if we’re a good match!

“He was bought for fashion, but when he got big and unfashionable he was brought here.” A voice piped up from somewhere behind Cullen. Cullen whirled around and saw a gangly young man standing behind him. His face was half hidden under a wide brimmed hat, and he walked to the kennel window with a loose limbed gait.

“He wants to be useful. Cages are boring, and walls restrict, restrain, contain- would you like to take him for a walk? He needs a long walk, every morning and evening.” The young man added.

“Cole, did you give the nugs fresh water?” The Qunari woman called out from down the hall.

“Yes, Ayisha, an hour ago. You and Bear should meet. You will be good friends.” The young man, Cole, informed Cullen, and then he was gone. He walked down the hall with that strange, fluid grace and disappeared around a corner.

“Sorry, Cole is… well, he’s Cole.” Ayisha said breathlessly when she reached him. Mia was right behind her, but she pressed her face to the glass and almost squealed with delight.

“Cullen! Look at him! Isn’t he perfect?” Mia asked. “Look at his paws! His perfect little paw pads! His little wiggly pink nose!” Her voice grew increasingly higher in pitch as she crooned over the dog.

“I noticed all of those things.” Cullen said dryly.

“Bear has been through a lot. He’s from a puppy mill and was bought by some Orlesian noblewoman who thought having a mabari was delightfully eccentric.” Ayisha explained, and she scowled. “But then Bear got too big for her to bring around to parties, so she dumped him at a partner shelter. We took him in when their shelter got overcrowded.”

“Cole said something to that effect.” Cullen murmured, and he stared at Bear. He was abandoned and alone, bought as a status symbol. But he was worth more. He was more. If Cullen could help, if he could change the tale of this dog, maybe- just maybe- he could change his own fate.

“I’d like to spend some time with Bear, if you don’t mind.” Cullen announced.

“No problem! He’s great, let me just open it up and let you in.” Ayisha said brightly, and as soon as her hand touched the doorknob Bear was on his feet and wagging his stubby tail so hard that his backside wiggled with excitement. His big brown eyes were alight with joy, and Cullen knew he had found a friend for life.

He entered Paw-demonium with empty hands. He exited with a mabari on a leash and a bag of dog food under his arm, and Mia trailed behind him with a long list of supplies that he simply _must_ have for his dog. And despite the chaos he knew Bear would bring into his orderly life, Cullen couldn’t stop smiling. He looked forward to the next day.

-

Changing the layout of his apartment to suit a dog was surprisingly easy, Cullen thought. He tossed a giant dog bed on the living room floor, put the food and water dish in the kitchen, and set up a little basket for dog toys near his bedroom. Cullen was busy installing a set of hooks near the front door to hang Bear’s leash and harnesses up when Mia called to him from the living room.

“Maker’s Breath! Cullen, you have got to see this!” Mia called out. Cullen rolled his eyes and walked into the living room. Mia stood near the sliding glass door that led out to his small balcony, clutching a cup of coffee in her hands and staring out across the street.

“What is it, Mia?” Cullen was prepared for the absurd, because his sister spent the past two days in Kirkwall being absurd. She tutted over the contents of his fridge, fussed over his worn down bedsheets and ragged towels, insisted on buying _everything_ new. Fussing was how Mia showed her love, but it was slowly driving Cullen mad. It was Bear that kept him sane. The dog would shove his giant head on Cullen’s lap and demand a good ear rub, and it never failed to calm Cullen’s frayed nerves.

“There’s this woman out on her balcony watering her plants!” Mia exclaimed. “Cullen, she’s so pretty!”

“Mia.” Cullen rolled his eyes. While Mia claimed that her visit was purely to check in on him, Cullen wondered if she was taking the opportunity to enjoy the sights of the big city. South Reach wasn’t exactly full of single, soulmate-less young women, and he knew (even if she never said it) that his sister was lonely. He thought of Mia’s impassioned outburst earlier in her visit, her assertion that he was lucky. Mia’s soulmate was platonic, and while they had a solid friendship Mia was desperate for a romantic connection in her life. Cullen wondered if she was jealous of him, if she was angry that he pushed away his soulmate when she had such trouble finding romantic partners.

“Come look and tell me I’m wrong!” Mia retorted. “I dare you!” Cullen sighed and shuffled over to the sliding glass door and peered out. And he nearly choked on his surprise. Standing there across the narrow street, right at his level, was Evelyn.

She stood on her balcony in the sunshine, her long dark hair piled on top of her head in a messy topknot. She wore shorts made of some brightly patterned yellow fabric and a loose white cotton shirt that was half falling off her shoulder. She was surrounded by the jungle of greenery that flourished on the balcony, a jungle that Cullen often admired when he drank his coffee outside on his rare day off. A thick strand of her hair fell out of the knot and rested along the curve of her neck and shoulder. She turned and bent over a little, half hidden by the foliage of the plants on her balcony. There was some movement, and she stood back up. A black cat had draped itself around her neck. She glanced up at the balcony above her and to her left and called out. Cullen looked up and saw-

“Ohhhh, he’s good looking.” Mia whistled as a lanky limbed elf leaned over his balcony railing and addressed Evelyn. Cullen recognized the pale hair, the pale tattoos, the dark skin- Fenris knew Evelyn? They lived in the same apartment complex? Cullen lived in Kirkwall for nearly five years now, how did he miss this? Probably because he was never around and never bothered to know anyone outside of work.

“He’s my bartender.” Cullen said. “Fenris.”

“D’you think he’ll introduce me to _her_? She’s so cute!” Mia gushed. “I think she has freckles on her cheeks, aren’t freckles adorable? I’m going to say hello.” Mia stepped towards the sliding glass door, and Cullen automatically threw his arm out to stop her.

“Mia. Don’t.” Cullen muttered.

“What? Do you think she won’t go for me or-” Mia looked at Cullen closely and gasped. “Cullen! You’re blushing!”

“Mia, please don’t.” Cullen pleaded.

“You’re hiding something! Out with it!” Mia ordered. She placed her hands on her hips and gave him the Rutherford Look, and Cullen felt his defenses crumble.

“Her name’s Evelyn. I met her at a party a few weeks ago.” Cullen mumbled. He knew he was blushing. His entire face was burning with heat. Bear, as if sensing his discomfort, rolled off of the couch and ambled over before giving Cullen’s hand a sloppy, wet lick and nudging his enormous, square-shaped head under Cullen’s hand. Cullen gave the mabari a good scratch behind the ears.

“Oh Maker.” Mia breathed out. “You _like_ her!”

“We only met once!” Cullen protested, but Mia was grinning at him 

“Cully-Wully-”

“No.”

“You have a crush!” Mia squealed, and her arms wrapped around him and she squeezed him so tightly he could hardly breathe. “Don’t worry, I’m going to say hello and be your wingman!” And before Cullen could stop her Mia slipped out from his grip and was outside and waving wildly at Evelyn. Cullen often wondered if someone could die of humiliation, but he was now certain of it. His sister was going to kill him. He debated hiding in his room under a barricade of pillows and blankets, but he knew he’d have to leave at some point. Mia was talking now, her voice echoing as she shouted hello.

“Hello! My name’s Mia, and I think you met my brother Cullen at a party!” She called out. Cullen couldn’t bear to look out and see what expression was on Evelyn’s face. Bemusement? Horror? He couldn’t guess. Bear shoved at his hand again and snuffled at his palm. Mia continued to talk though, and it was even more embarrassing because she had all the tact of a wild druffalo on a rampage.

“He’s about this tall, blonde, hardly ever smiles, scar on his mouth- I gave that to him when we were kids, you know- and he constantly looks half-exhausted.” Mia said brightly, flailing her arms about to emphasize her descriptions.

“That sounds like him.” Fenris’s gravel like voice remarked. “I had not realized you met, Evelyn.”

“Only a few weeks ago. He was quite the gentleman.” Evelyn finally said, and her voice was soothing even at a raised volume.

“Gentleman?” Mia asked, and Cullen could _hear_ the grin on her face. “Cullen was a gentleman?!” Cullen knew he had to interrupt this conversation now before it got worse, but he couldn’t force his legs to move. It was as if his feet were trapped in thick mud. He was frozen in place, like he was always frozen in place. Always thinking, never acting, letting things happen when he should have stepped in and done something. Why did he always freeze? What was wrong with him?

Bear snorted and leaned against his leg, and his presence broke the spiral of helplessness and frustration Cullen was falling down. Cullen took a deep breath, preparing himself for laughter or Mia’s teasing, but paused when Evelyn’s voice drifted on the air.

“Yes. He was very polite.” Evelyn replied. “How is he?” Was he imagining the curiosity and longing in Evelyn’s voice, or was it real? Was she just making polite conversation? Maker, what was she thinking? The only way to find out was to go outside, and his curiosity overwhelmed his anxiety.

“He’s fine!” Mia said swiftly as Cullen poked his head out of his apartment. “Well, as fine as he ever is, he’s such a workaholic-”

“Airing the dirty laundry, Mia?” Cullen asked, and he grinned when she jumped in surprise. There was a smug sort of brotherly satisfaction found in startling his unflappable sister.

“Cullen! We were just talking about you!”

“I know.” Cullen looked across the street at Evelyn, then glanced up at Fenris. Fenris looked vaguely interested in the scene below in the way a lazy cat observed the outside world from a window perch. Evelyn was holding onto her cat and standing perfectly straight. Her cheeks were bright pink, and she waved shyly at him. Cullen hesitantly raised his hand and waved back.

“Evelyn.” He said, and he glanced up to Fenris again, who was leaning over his balcony and- was he smirking?

“Fenris.” Cullen said cautiously. Fenris acknowledged his greeting with a short nod of his head.

“It’s nice to see you again!” Evelyn said, and her voice sounded a little strained. “My feet are better! Mostly better, it’s all scabbed and I can walk without limping around like an idiot and Maker help me that was too much information, wasn’t it? I’m so sorry, no one wants to hear that!”

“No, it’s- that is I’m glad you’ve recovered.” Cullen said hastily. He knew he was blushing too, and he knew Mia was grinning like the cat who got the cream.

“I- well, yes, that is- thank you.” Evelyn managed to say. She was still blushing, and Cullen couldn’t help but think that she was rather pretty when she blushed. She was even prettier when she smiled, and when she laughed- well, when she laughed it took his breath away. Evelyn grinned at him, and it was as if the entire world ceased to be. He didn’t care that Mia was watching, that Fenris was up above looking down with that quiet amusement that seemed his natural reaction to most things- Cullen just wanted to smile, so he did.

“You were lucky to escape when you did!” Evelyn called out. “All the lords and ladies of Kirkwall felt like they needed to make individual speeches, and it took nearly an hour to get through them all. My hands nearly fell off from having to applaud so much!”

“Who would have thought a gala would be so hazardous to your health?” Cullen joked, and Evelyn laughed.

“I think I’m allergic to glamor! My friends certainly think so.” Evelyn replied, and she gestured up to Fenris. “You agree with me, don’t you, Fenris?”

“I have no opinion on the matter.” Fenris said plainly. “But I have to go, Anders is expecting me to bring him breakfast at his clinic.” He waved goodbye to Evelyn, nodded a farewell that seemed to encompass both Mia and Cullen, and retreated back into his apartment. Evelyn shrugged and smiled again.

“That was Fenris politely agreeing with me, I think.” Evelyn informed them. “But he’s effortlessly glamorous, he wakes up looking like that, if you can believe it!”

“I think you’re very glamorous!” Mia piped up, and she quickly jostled Cullen’s side with her elbow before sweetly adding, “Don’t you think so, Cullen?” 

 

“Mia!” Cullen hissed, but Mia blithely ignored him.

“Evelyn, it’s so nice to meet you!” Mia said. “So, any more dirt on Cullen? Our mum and da expect a full report on him when I get back to South Reach!”

“Cullen is a gentleman and made me smile when I was upset.” Evelyn said simply. “Anything more is a betrayal of our friendship.” She winked at him. Winked at him!

“You’re a good friend. We can ditch parties together.” Cullen offered.

“I’d like that. I still owe you.” Evelyn replied, and she raised her right hand and waved at him. A thick bronze bangle slid down her arm, revealing a band of green around her wrist. Cullen’s heart seized up. It was a less vibrant green, pale like clear jade. Cullen greedily traced the way the band twisted, the delicate whorls that turned into leaves- five little points on fat little leaves that looked like ivy. But then Evelyn’s arm was lowered and the Mark disappeared again.

“I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you again sometime!” Evelyn replied, and then she was gone with her cat and Cullen stared blankly at the garden across the way. Bear leaned fully into his leg and whined, and Cullen absently scratched behind his ears. His eyes couldn’t have been playing tricks on him. He knew that Mark down to the curl of the vine right above his pulse point, the fat little ivy leaf that was nestled under the joint of his thumb. Cullen knew that Mark intimately because it was his.

“Mia, you saw that, right?” Cullen whispered, as if speaking any louder would break the moment of discovery.

“I… I think so.” Mia replied. She sounded shaken, as shaken as Cullen felt, and he turned his head. Mia’s face was ashen, and she kept glancing between Cullen’s arm and back to Evelyn’s balcony.

“So I wasn’t seeing things.” Cullen murmured, rubbing at his mark. Evelyn had his Mark, or he had hers- who marked who in a soul-bond? It looked far better on her than it did on him. Hers looked green and growing, and his looked like a snake strangling him. But it was still the same Mark.

“Oh Maker, Cullen. She’s your soulmate! Your soulmate!” Mia grabbed his arm and hustled him into his apartment, and frog-marched him to his couch. While he sat on the dark grey upholstery with Bear’s head on his lap, Mia paced back and forth in his living room.

“So we’ll dress you up and you’ll invite her to dinner. Then you’ll apologize to her for ignoring her all these years and offer to start over. You clearly like her so it won’t be a problem.” Mia declared as she paced the ten steps across his living room. Her flip flops smacked against the wooden floors as she walked. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

“Mia.” Cullen said, and she held up her hand.

“Shut up, Cullen, I’m trying to save your love life.” Mia ordered. “Thank the Maker you’re good looking, and she seems to like you already so it won’t be impossible. You’re going to have to be charming, so whatever you did when you first met Evelyn you need to do it again! Several times! She won’t have the best opinion of you so you’re going to have to prove your worth-”

“Mia, please.” Cullen murmured.

“Don’t you ‘Mia, please’ me! Cullen, she’s so sweet and you _smiled_ at her! You almost laughed! I haven’t seen you smile in ages!” Mia exclaimed. “So we have to convince her that you’re worth the effort, we just have to-”

“MIa!” Cullen interrupted her loudly. “Mia, you need to stop!”

“Cullen, we almost lost you twice now!” Mia shouted, and when she turned to face him there were tears running down her cheeks. Mia, crying? Mia never cried, not even when she broke her arm in rugby. Not when Da caught her sneaking out at night to party and drink and how she nearly got herself killed. Not when they had to bury Donovan, their much beloved family mabari hound (though that had been a close thing). In fact, the only time Cullen had ever seen Mia come close to tears was… was… it was two days previous, when she mentioned Cullen, soulmates, and his wreck of a life.

“With the Blight and everything that happened to you at Kinloch, we were just so glad you made it out alive. But then.... Then you just left! You ran off to Kirkwall, and with this whole Knight Commander business and the way she treated you-” Mia broke off and scrubbed at her eyes with the heels of her palms. “We almost lost you again, but to her- her-”

“Perverted sense of righteous duty?” Cullen asked. His throat was thick, as if filled with cement, but he managed to speak and let the words out. Mia nodded.

“We all want to see you happy, Cullen. And if your soulmate can help, if she’s still trying after all this time- it must mean something!” Mia insisted. “She still has faith in you! Let her in!”

“Mia, I can’t. She’s a Mage.” Cullen said softly. Mages and Templars must not mix. It was dangerous. Evelyn didn’t seem dangerous, his traitorous heart seemed to say, but Cullen knew just how dangerous a cornered Mage could be. If they were to come together, how long would it be until he felt endangered, or she felt cornered, and it all devolved into chaos and horror?

“And?” Mia waited for his explanation.

“I’m a Templar.” And not just a Templar, Cullen realized, but a Kirkwall Templar from Stannard’s reign. He was the most dangerous of the dangerous to a Mage. He couldn’t be with Evelyn, not only for his own safety but for hers. It could- would- be a disaster. It should not happen. But, Maker help him, the reality of their situation did not burst that bubble of longing rising in his chest. Cullen knew he should stay away, but he wanted to go back outside, flag Evelyn down, and talk to her. Tell her jokes. Make her smile and laugh and talk back to him. Cullen wanted, and that was a dangerous thing.

“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth, Cullen, and I’ve known you from the moment you were born!” Mia exclaimed. She flung her hands up in frustration and resumed pacing around his living room.

“I’m Cullen Stanton Rutherford, and I’m too much of a blockhead to try and woo my soulmate who is _clearly_ infatuated with me as much as I am with her! I’m Cullen Stanton Rutherford, and I’m too stubborn and set in tradition and societal biases to look past a Maker-damned class label! I’m Cullen Stanton Rutherford and I’d rather wallow in my misery than let myself be happy!” Mia ranted, and while the insults stung Cullen took them. It wasn’t like she wasn’t telling the truth. Most of the truth.

“Mia, she’s a Mage. I’m a Templar. A Kirkwall Templar.” Cullen explained slowly. “Do you realize how terrified she will be when she finds that out?”

“Cullen, your face is on the telly nearly every other night. I think she knows who you are.” Mia said dryly. “And she’s still talking to you.” She had a point there, Cullen knew it, but his entire body felt like it was screaming at him in protest. No. Danger. Run. But Maker help him, Evelyn made him laugh. He thought back to their first meeting, how he felt capable and more like himself than he had in years when he was with her. 

Cullen knew it was dangerous. Mages were dangerous. But so was he, and yet he was the one who had all the control. He had all the control and his soulmate, Evelyn, had nothing. She was utterly powerless in the soulmate system. All she could do was send in her application to him every year and wait for him to deny it. Deny her. That smacked of unfairness. When it was a distant sort of thing, when his soulmate was a theoretical problem in his life, Cullen didn’t let the imbalance of it all bother him. But she had a face, a name, a life- Cullen knew how she spoke, how her hair fell into her face, how she wrinkled her nose a little when she laughed, and he couldn’t pretend anymore. He couldn’t hold onto all this power in their lives.

He had to try to make things right.

“I’ll open up my files.” Cullen announced. “And Evelyn can decide what to do with it.” It was the right thing to do.

“Excuse me?” Mia’s eyes were nearly popping out of her head.

“She needs to decide if she wants me.” Cullen said. “Evelyn- Mia, don’t frown at me- Evelyn needs some control in this relationship if it’s ever going to work out.” And Cullen wanted it to work. He wanted so badly that his heart ached with longing, but this wasn’t solely about him anymore. He had been selfish for far too long. It was time to give back.

“So you’re going to open up your files and wait.” Mia repeated. “What if she rejects it? What if she gets pissed off and decides she doesn’t want you- if you’re a little more proactive you can dodge all that mess! I know you can be charming, turn on the charm and get her to like you before-”

“Mia, she’s been forced to wait on me for years. The least I can do is wait for her.” Cullen replied. “And if she’s angry, so be it.” Cullen would live with the consequences knowing that he had finally given his soulmate some control in their bond and their life. And maybe, just maybe, in giving her a choice Cullen would find out what the bond between them truly meant.


	2. Chapter 2

Evelyn Adelaide Jeanne Trevelyan longed for a soulmate.

As a little girl her favorite bedtime stories were the fairy tales full of soulmate bonds and adventure and romance. She snuggled under her covers, Nanny tucked her pink and white quilt under her chin, and then she read to her, slim brown fingers turning each page as her low, soothing voice spoke of dragons and sailing ships and knights and mages and worlds full of wonder, with soulmates side by side and seeing the world together. Evelyn drank up every word, staring at each colorful picture in her book. When Nanny turned off the lights and left her room, Evelyn would touch the mark around her wrist, an ivy vine the color of Mother’s jade necklace. She would curl up and dream of her soulmate and all the adventures they would have together. Maybe they would sail around the world! Maybe they would get a dog! Ten dogs! And a cat! Evelyn Adelaide Jeanne Trevelyan had a dozen plans for her soulmate and their future, and she was excited to see them all become real.

Life, however, never turns out the way a child thinks it will. Circumstances changed. Plans altered. When Evelyn was eight years old she lit the curtains in her father’s study on fire without matches or a lighter. The magic that ran through her family lineage had awoken in her. She was no longer Evelyn Adelaide Jeanne Trevelyan of House Trevelyan, the seventh child of the Lord and Lady Trevelyan. She was Evelyn Adelaide Jeanne Trevelyan, Mage. She was sent off to the closest Mage Circle boarding school within the hour. That night she went from sleeping in a fairy tale boudoir of pale pink frills and cream lace to sharing a cold dormitory with ten other little girls. She buried herself under scratchy wool blankets for the first of many long nights, curled her hand around her soulmark, and cried herself to sleep.

Evelyn knew that she was one of the lucky ones. She remained in Ostwick, had semi-annual visits to the family home, and was allowed visitors during school breaks. That was more than most students at Ostwick’s Circle of Magi Preparatory Academy for Young Mages ever got. But Evelyn still felt the sting of rejection with every visit home, every time her father avoided looking directly at her, every time her mother flinched when she saw her daughter. Even her brothers had no idea how to handle having a Mage in the family. They tiptoed around the subject as if mentioning magic would set the room on fire. Only Grandmere Adelaide, her father’s mother, didn’t flinch when she visited her. She merely offered her tea and drilled her on her lessons. She was harsher than any of her teachers and far more exacting, but she gave Evelyn hope that maybe, if she worked hard enough, her family would want her again. If she worked hard enough, Evelyn hoped that she could leave Ostwick, find her soulmate, and they could go on adventures with a cat and a more reasonable number of dogs and they would be happy.

So Evelyn worked hard. She studied everything with eagerness and diligence. She would be the perfect student, the perfect Mage, the perfect daughter, and everything would be the way it was supposed to be. First Enchanter Lydia always praised her dedication, and Evelyn was secretly thrilled by the compliments. She spent her free time in the Circle library looking at books on magic and medicine. If she could just show her family that magic was not a curse but a gift, they would no longer be afraid of her! Everything would return to normal! But as she studied she grew to love the study of medicine and magic, and Evelyn knew what she wanted to do with her future beyond finding her soulmate and having adventures. She could help others with her magic and help them understand what magic was. She spent her afternoons in First Enchanter Lydia’s office pouring over loaned books on medicine and writing every essay she could think of to get a scholarship to attend a university outside of Ostwick. It was important to accomplish this all on her own merit. If Evelyn proved her worth without her family’s influence and financial backing, they’d be happy with her. They would be proud.

So when she graduated Ostwick with honors as an Enchanter, Evelyn was struck with the horrifying realization that it wasn’t enough. She had toiled for years to be the best, and her family still flinched and avoided her, even as she presented her diploma and her honor sashes. She had pushed herself to near breaking point time and time again, her only comfort the little green soulmark around her wrist, and it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t enough for her family. The revelation was a harsh slap in the face, and it gave birth to doubts that plagued Evelyn as she made her new plans for her future: If she wasn’t good enough for her family, was she good enough for her soulmate?

Nonsense, she told herself. Her soulmate was her _soulmate_. They would love her! Soulmates were partners who brought out the best in each other. It was foolish to think that her soulmate wouldn’t want her! Of course she was good enough for them.

But the thought lingered in the back of her mind like a fungus. As soon as she was allowed she entered her soulmate paperwork into the system and waited. And waited.

Maybe they weren’t old enough to submit their files yet, she reasoned, and Evelyn let herself wait all summer as she prepared her apartment in Val Royeux. She had a lot to do besides worry about her soulmate, after all. They’d get to her soon! It didn’t matter that they hadn’t contacted her yet, Evelyn told herself. These things happened. Paperwork got lost. Age gaps were a thing. It wasn’t anything to worry about. Evelyn kept her soulmate informed about everything in her own way. She talked to her Mark, whispering all her thoughts and feelings, all the embarrassing, silly things that passed through her head.

“Sometimes I get lonely and give myself a hug. Grandmere thinks hugs are too emotional. I haven’t been hugged in months, since I left Ostwick.” Evelyn confessed to the Mark as she studied for her exams on her bed.

“You know, I never really liked pears.” She whispered to the soulmark as she shopped for groceries. “It feels like chewing sand when you chew a pear. Not that I eat sand, of course.”

“I always liked playing in the dirt as a child, and studying the effects of different strands of elfroot for chronic pain was one of my final projects at Ostwick.” Evelyn said while she prepared little planter boxes on her balcony and buried seeds into the soil. “Maybe I can make gardening a hobby. Everyone needs a hobby, don’t you think?”

“You better like dogs. I’ve always wanted a dog. Maybe a mabari, they have such sweet faces.” Evelyn informed the Mark as she watched a documentary about the street dogs of Nevarra.

“At night I hug a pillow and pretend it’s you. Don’t tell anyone.” She murmured as she snuggled under the covers and embraced her pillow.

She told the soulmark everything, and even though she never got a response Evelyn could have sworn the Mark felt warm to her touch. It was as if someone had their hand gently wrapped around her wrist. She didn’t feel so lonely in Orlais when she had her soulmark to keep her company. Evelyn would have been content to keep to herself and focus on her studies, but plans changed. Situations altered.

One early morning, when the sky was still dark, Evelyn bolted upright in her bed drenched in sweat and utterly disoriented. She knew that _something_ was wrong. Her Mark hurt, pulsing with heat and needle jabs of pain- and it had never done that before! The unease stayed with her as she showered under hot water and scrubbed at her skin with soap until she felt a little raw. But the dread didn’t ease from the pit of her stomach. Something was wrong. Her soulmark ached fiercely around her wrist. She rubbed it, as if her touch could soothe the hurt, but nothing seemed to stop the burning. Her Mark had never hurt like this before- what could it mean? It had to be a bad omen. Did her soulmate feel it too? Had something happened to them? It had always been a warm, friendly connection, but now it was pain. Something was wrong!

It was only when she turned on the news at breakfast that Evelyn wondered if she found an answer to her burning soulmark. Civil war had broken out in Ferelden as the Blight Plague spread across the countryside. The following days, weeks, and months were filled with more reports and images of the Blighted countryside, destroyed by drought, plague, and war, and Evelyn grew more and more convinced and more and more afraid. Her soulmate wasn’t dead, she was sure of it, but they were hurt and angry, and she felt it through the soulmark. But every time she tried to reach out the Mark only burned hotter against her skin. There was no soothing it, and Evelyn had no one to talk to about it. Her many tutors and mentors were all cautious about magic, Mages, and soulmarks, and they told her to not push for answers. Her family was never of any practical use- they barely called her! Asking for help from that quarter seemed utterly pointless. So Evelyn muddled through things on her own.

She was certain that her soulmate was Ferelden (or at the very least living in Ferelden). It was the only explanation for the sudden shift of gentle warmth in the Mark to the cold burn that clung to her wrist. Overnight her soulmate had gone from being welcoming and gentle to shutting her out. Evelyn was able to bear the lengthy wait for paperwork, but the harsh cut-off from the Mark and her soulmate was far more difficult to handle.

Fereldens as a whole weren’t fond of magic. Evelyn knew that much. Her soulmate was likely Ferelden. Maybe they saw her paperwork, saw who she was, and couldn’t bear to be with a Mage. Remaining matchless and alone was preferable to being with her. She wasn’t wanted- she wasn’t _wanted_.

“I’m not good enough, am I?” Evelyn whispered at the Mark. “You decided I wasn’t good enough.” She couldn’t even feel pain at the realization. She simply felt numb. It was shock, that was all. She would recover and feel again, she’d grieve, she’d get angry, she’d heal and cope. But now she was dealing with shock. She still wasn’t enough for her family, and she wasn’t enough for her soulmate. She simply wasn’t worth the trouble of loving, and once again Evelyn curled up in her bed and let herself cry.

The next morning Evelyn woke up refreshed and a little less self-pitying. She washed up, got dressed, ate an apple for breakfast, watered her plants on the balcony, and made an appointment at the local soulmate matching agency. She showed up at noon and spoke with the elven woman at the front desk.

“Hello. I want to update my soulmate application.” Evelyn told her politely, her voice firm. That was how it began: every year Evelyn would go to a soulmate matching agency, have them pull up her file, update her information and photographs, and submit it back into the pool of soulmate files. There was never any change. Her soulmate never contacted her, though the burning hot rage that had characterized the soulmark had somewhat cooled. It was like having layers of blankets over her body, Evelyn thought. She felt, but those feelings were heavy and dulled. She wondered if the sensations were similar for her soulmate. What did they feel?

Resentment, Evelyn answered. She couldn’t deny she was angry and had stewed in her anger for several years now. It got worse every year, as the employees at the soulmate agency recognized her and gave her those looks, those pitying, sorry looks every time she came in and they had to say “I’m sorry, mademoiselle, but your soulmate’s files are sealed.” Then Evelyn would reply “That’s alright, I’m here to update my file.” By the time she graduated from Val Royeux she had six years of updates to her file and nothing to show for it but her simmering bitterness. She even stopped talking to her soulmark, because the conversations became rambling rants directed at her soulmate and it was neither satisfying or productive. Evelyn’s bitterness was compacted by the fact that her family still didn’t seem to care much for her. There was pride, of course, but it was a distant pride, the pride that gets mentioned but never celebrated. She was a topic of polite Satinalia letters and nothing more.

Her plans to return to Ostwick in triumph were dashed to the ground. Her family was still distant, her soulmate rejected her, and she hadn’t even a cat or dog to keep her company. Evelyn didn’t know what to do with herself until she heard from a job opportunity in the town of Skyhold. It was a small project that would only last a few years, but she would be working with Ferelden refugees and war veterans. She would help them cope with their trauma. She could help. She could do something, and that was certainly better than sitting around feeling sorry for herself. She took the posting and took it gladly, and the decision turned her life around. She was no longer descending into bitterness and sorrow. Evelyn had purpose, people who needed her help, and she had people around her who seemed to like her! She was making _friends_!

Evelyn dove into her job with fervor, glad to finally be productive and helpful. When she wasn’t working she was out hiking, or spending time with a variety of acquaintances and friends from work. There was Josephine, another therapist who primarily worked with refugee children and always had a moment to sip a cup of tea and chat about- well, about anything. Then there was Solas, another therapist and Mage- and he enjoyed debating the uses of magic in therapy. Blackwall was a local carpenter who helped fix Evelyn’s office door. Iron Bull was- well, Evelyn was never sure what Iron Bull did for a living, but he was her neighbor and always said hello. Dorian was another acquaintance turned fast friend when they tried to grab the same volume of a book at a used bookstore, and their polite debate over who should purchase the book turned into a shared meal and a friendship that consisted of the two of them sending each other books as presents.

But the best friend Evelyn made in Skyhold was Blackberry. It was a snowy winter morning, she woke up and opened her apartment door to head outside and buy groceries before the stores shut down, and a streak of black fur raced into her apartment and hid in a wet, shivering mess under her couch. It took nearly an hour of coaxing and a can of tuna, but Evelyn got the cat out from under the couch and dried her with a towel, then formed a nest of blankets for her. She quickly ran to the store and bought every cat supply she could think of before returning and caring for her new visitor, a black haired, green eyed cat. Evelyn took the cat to a vet the next day, got the cat shots and a thorough examination, learned the cat was a girl cat, and she decided the cat might as well stay with her. Evelyn named the prickly black cat Blackberry. Blackberry was a little demanding and imperious and not the sort who enjoyed cuddles, but Evelyn was delighted to finally have a cat around. Evelyn didn’t have a soulmate. She didn’t have a dog. Her adventures around the world were limited to work related travel and the one holiday trip back to Ostwick she took every year. But she finally, finally had a cat. Life was looking up.

Habits, however, were hard to break. The soulmark was a dull ache around her wrist on most days, a quiet sort of pain that she learned to live with. With every year that passed without news from her soulmate, Evelyn grew more and more disillusioned with the naive dream that her soulmate would ever come around and open up their files. With every passing year Evelyn learned that it was foolish to dream, and she learned to get by. Not everyone found their soulmate, and it was time to put dreams in the past. 

But she could never fully give up on her soulmate. Every year she updated her file, every year she wondered if this would be it, the change she wanted. Every year she was disappointed, and every year she would try again. She hoped that the pain of rejection would fade with time. It never did, but Evelyn could never give up on her soulmate. Not completely.

The therapy program she joined ended five years later. There was not enough government funding to maintain her patient pool, and many of her patients left Skyhold for a variety of reasons. She had enough money to maintain her life in Skyhold, but Evelyn could admit that the small mountain town felt a little… restrictive. There was only so much to do in Skyhold, after all. Evelyn could also admit that everyone was in everyone’s business in Skyhold. For example, Skyhold only had one soul matching agency. In Val Royeux Evelyn hopped from agency to agency to avoid showing the depths of her desperation to strangers, and no one much cared about what she did about her soulmate. Sure, there were the pitying stares at every agency when they looked through her file, but no one _talked_. But in Skyhold?

In Skyhold people talked. It felt like everyone knew her business and problems with her soulmate. She would miss the intimacy and beauty of the mountain town, but she would not miss the lack of privacy. While she debated and wondered, Evelyn was approached by Josephine with a grand opportunity. A friend of hers, another therapist she trained with, was in desperate need of therapists experienced in dealing with PTSD due to incidents with magic. It was right up Evelyn’s alley, her dream job in every sense, and it was a permanent sort of position. The only problem was that she would have to move back to the Free Marches. Thankfully it wasn’t Ostwick, but the city of Kirkwall still felt too near to the family that still seemed uncomfortable with her.

“But it is a great opportunity.” Evelyn informed Blackberry as she packed up the last box of books. “Kirkwall needs some mage outreach! Did you see how they arrested their Knight Commander? Right in the Chantry with the Grand Cleric!” Blackberry yawned, displaying her pointy white teeth. Evelyn reached over and patted the cat’s head. It was going to be good for her- more privacy, for one.

“We can do some good, Blackberry. We’ve done good work in Skyhold, we can do good work in Kirkwall. And it’s closer to Ostwick.” Evelyn explained. “Not like we’ll visit often. I doubt they’ll visit us, so we don’t have to worry about keeping up appearances.” She already found an apartment, shipped what she needed, sold and donated what she couldn’t bring with her, and packed everything that was too precious to lose. Parting with her plants was the hardest part, and in the end Evelyn kept three out of her collection- the Satinalia cactus First Enchanter Lydia got her when she was a Junior Enchanter at Ostwick, the amaryllis from Grandmere, and the orchid Dorian gave her. Everything else had to go. 

When all was packed up and sent off, Evelyn stood in the middle of her empty Skyhold apartment with a travel bag over one shoulder and Blackberry’s carrier on the floor next to her. She would miss this place, she thought with a surprising pang of sadness. It was the first place where she was completely free of her family and their expectations. No matter how distant they were, the Trevelyan clan always kept an eye on their own- and Skyhold was where Evelyn was free from all that. It may have been a small town and people may have been in her business all the time, but… well, she would miss the closeness. The concern.

Her Mark flared with warmth. It wasn’t painful, more akin to a gentle touch than a harsh grip, and it was over in an instant. It felt cautious, a hesitant creep along her skin. Evelyn frowned and stared at the Mark. The ivy leaves remained as they always did, jade green against her brown skin.

“Oh, please.” Evelyn grumbled at the soulmark. “Don’t tell me you’re suddenly interested in me now.” The Mark flared again, and then there was nothing but the feeling of her skin again.

“Fine. Be that way.” Evelyn retorted, letting a little of the hurt and bitterness seep into her voice. “You can’t just show up after all this and think I’ll be happy.” But even then Evelyn knew a small, lonely, desperate part of her lapped up that little bit of cautious contact and held it close. Evelyn picked up Blackberry and her carrier and hurried out of her former apartment, only stopping by the office to hand over her keys and sign the last of her paperwork. Then she caught a ride to the airport to fly to Kirkwall and her new life.

Kirkwall was a mess. Evelyn knew that the city was built on ancient foundations. She knew the streets were narrow and winding. She knew the buildings towered above everyone. She knew the air was hot and muggy in the summers and chilly in the winters. She knew the city always smelled of the sea. But there was a vast difference in knowing all this on an intellectual level and experiencing it first hand. Now that she lived there she knew from experience: Kirkwall was a mess. Evelyn liked the chaos- it meant there was always something to do. She settled into her daily routine easily enough: wake up with the sun, water the plants, play with Blackberry, eat breakfast, get ready for the day. Go to work. Go back home. Snuggle the cat. Go out on weekends, either out in the city or hiking in the parks and woodlands. She made friends, she did things, she _lived_ \- and it was good.

Evelyn found another soulmate agency and updated her files as she always did, more out of habit than hope. Evelyn wondered if she should give up on it, but one look at her Mark and she found she couldn’t go through with it. It was part of her, and she would not turn it away, even if it hurt sometimes. Though it was a little strange, Evelyn thought as she slid a thick bronze bracelet over her wrist and soulmark. The Mark didn’t ache as much as it used to. Sometimes it even felt like it did before that morning in Val Royeux so many years ago. Sometimes there were bad days, but there were good ones too. Evelyn could get used to feeling content. She even found herself talking to her soulmark again. She no longer spilled her secrets and longing, but she talked about her day. She asked questions. Sometimes, if she was still and quiet and concentrated really hard, Evelyn believed that her soulmark responded with little flashes of warmth.

It wasn’t much, but Evelyn was happy enough.

So that Saturday morning Evelyn rolled out of bed and stretched her arms high above her head. Blackberry made a little rolling purring sound in her throat, and Evelyn scratched behind her ears before getting up and shuffling over to the kitchen. She fixed a cup of coffee for herself and made her way to her balcony to enjoy the steamy summer morning. She shut her eyes and raised her face to the sun as the sounds of the city and the sea filled her ears. She heard her neighbors arguing above her.

“No no no, you’re telling me you _read_ that trash? Do you like Phantom of The Tower too?” One man exclaimed, his voice rising up in indignation.

“Orlesian melodrama is entertaining. I didn’t say it was high-brow.” Another man replied, his voice low and calm. “Anders, you spilled tea all over your shirt.”

“I might just dump the rest of it on your head! Really, Fenris, I can’t believe you read all ten “Red Templar” novels. All ten! And then you watched that awful movie adaptation!” Anders exclaimed. “Andraste’s Tits, the main romance is between a Templar and Circle Mage! In the Dragon Age! Do you realize how- how problematic that is?!”

“The Tombs of Nevarra is the best one.” Fenris said easily. “And what movie adaptation?”

“You know the one! The one with the Qunari actress who can crush heads between her thighs!” Anders sounded rather irritated, and Evelyn leaned against the railing of her balcony and peered a little up. Fenris stood at his balcony, and Evelyn saw a bit of his elbow and his white hair. She couldn’t see Anders, but Evelyn was sure that he was pacing on his own balcony while Fenris watched him.

“No.” Fenris replied. “I have no idea what movie you’re talking about.”

“Ugh. I can’t believe you!” Anders exclaimed. “I bet you like the love story between Ricard and Adam.” He muttered the last bit under his breath.

“Mmm.” Fenris replied. “I prefer Finnian and Miriam.

“You… you like the Mage? Miriam?” Anders asked softly, and Evelyn could imagine the big eyed, awestruck expression on Anders’s face as he asked the question. Evelyn smiled as she sipped her coffee. 

“She’s the best character, complex and interesting. And I thought you didn’t like the Red Templar series.” Fenris said.

“No, but, well, Miriam’s-.” Anders muttered. “Stop smiling, Fenris. No one likes you when you’re smug.”

“I think you like me plenty, Anders.” Fenris said, his voice low and dark. Evelyn felt shivers up her spine, and she only liked Fenris as a friend! She couldn’t even imagine what Anders was feeling.

“I, uh, well.” Anders squeaked out.

“I’ll be over in five minutes.” Fenris promised, and Evelyn heard someone’s heavy footfalls hurry away. Another set of footsteps leisurely crossed the balcony.

“Evelyn. Good morning.” Fenris called out. Evelyn looked up and waved to her stern neighbor.

“Good morning, Fenris. Awfully busy today, aren’t you?” She asked cheerfully.

“Perhaps.” Fenris replied calmly, but his green eyes were bright with excitement. Or was it anticipation? Probably both- Fenris wasn’t a demonstrative man, but he clearly adored his soulmate. Envy wriggled in her stomach like a worm on a hook, and she hated herself for that. Evelyn hated that she was jealous of her neighbors and their joy in each other. They were soulmates who loved each other, and she had nothing. She tried for so long and she had _nothing_ \- she had hoped she would have been over this by now.

“I’ll leave you to your business, then.” Evelyn said. She was not jealous, she was _not jealous_!

“Yes. Good bye.” Fenris answered, and he disappeared from view. Moments later Evelyn heard a door slam shut. She sighed and leaned against the balcony railing. She was insanely jealous. It wasn’t about the sex that her neighbors had on a regular basis. A very regular basis, Evelyn thought. She winced reflexively as she thought of some of the things she heard coming from upstairs. Anders and Fenris were very active at all hours, and they were very… passionate. Sometimes Anders forgot to shut his windows and/or doors, or they got down to business on Fenris’s balcony, or there was that time on the stairwell that she pretended to forget. 

Yet it wasn’t the sex that Evelyn envied- she’d had sex before! Plenty of times! It was the intimacy, the way Anders and Fenris would argue and debate and rage but still manage to care and fuss and love each other through it all. She envied the way Anders would ramble and Fenris would listen, his green eyes lidded and his mouth curled up in a satisfied smile. Evelyn envied Anders when he waxed poetic about his soulmate and how much he adored Fenris and his idiosyncrasies. She was jealous of them and their love because she didn’t know if she could have that for herself and her soulmate. She didn’t know if she ever would have it with anyone.

It was hard for Evelyn to go beyond casual relationships. Her soulmate connection was so strong that it felt like she was bringing another partner into a relationship, and that wasn’t right. Evelyn couldn’t go day after day after day being exclusive when she was so emotionally invested in her relationship with her soulmate. Her nonexistent relationship, she thought with no small amount of bitterness. She was forever at a standstill because she was committed to a relationship with her soulmate and couldn’t manage to make herself move on. Evelyn sighed again and looked across the street to the apartment facing hers.

Cullen wasn’t outside today. He rarely was. He was apparently a workaholic and didn’t spend much time at home. She supposed that was what happened when your boss turned out to be a criminal and left you with the task of cleaning up an entire organization. There was probably a great burden on his shoulders, never mind the troubles that came with being a Templar. At least the organization had moved on beyond using lyrium in the Steam Age- a lyrium addiction would have made everything worse for the poor man.

Evelyn knew the dangers of mixing Mages and Templars together. There was a history of abuse and trauma that was difficult to overcome. He would probably panic and think she was a maleficar or something should he learn she was a Mage. A casual acquaintance was the best Evelyn could realistically hope for. She could only expect a shared nod and greeting when they came across each other, and a few jokes in polite company should they be forced together at a party.

But Maker help her, Cullen made her smile and forget her problems for a little while. He was funny and a little awkward and painfully charming- and Evelyn liked him! She liked his self-deprecating humor, his earnestness, the way he told her off when she started berating herself- no one had ever done that before. No one saw through the smile and laugh to pick out that little seed of truth, and he had. And Cullen sat with her and helped her when she needed it, and he understood her needs. He realized that she didn’t want to be coddled or fussed over, that she couldn’t bear to be carried around as if she was weak. Instead of forcing her to rely on him, Cullen offered and came up with an alternative. He let her have her pride and independence, and Evelyn liked him for that.

If she didn’t have the proverbial millstone around her neck, a soulmate who was forever leaving her hanging in anticipation, maybe she would- well, Evelyn wasn’t sure what she would do. Ask him out on a coffee date? Go to a movie and dinner? Walk around the park together? He had a mabari, and Evelyn had never let go of her love for those giant dogs with the soulful eyes. Blackberry, as if sensing her wistful longing for a dog, wound around her legs sensuously and meowed loudly. Evelyn bent down and gave the cat a good pet.

“I’m not about to replace you, Blackberry. Who else will sit judgmentally on my bookshelf if you’re gone?” Evelyn asked. Blackberry meowed again, and Evelyn gave Cullen’s balcony one long, last look before retreating inside. Maybe some other time, she told herself. Maybe some other time.

That time came sooner than she expected, when Evelyn was running errands. She was at the grocery store staring at the display of oranges when a cold, wet thing nosed her hand and wrist. There was a soft little wuffing sound, and then-

“Bear! No!” A man exclaimed as Evelyn looked down at the big, lazy grin of a very happy mabari hound. “I’m sorry, he’s still in training, I- oh.” Evelyn looked up from the mabari’s big brown eyes to meet another pair of brown eyes- Cullen’s eyes. He looked tired, Evelyn thought, like he needed to sleep for at least ten hours. Yet somehow he was still handsome, all golden and rugged like a smutty romance novel cover- no! Bad! She was not going to think that!

“Oh, um, hello!” Evelyn squeaked out. “I really don’t mind. I love dogs. Not that I’ve ever had a dog, my parents always said pets were too messy so we never had any, but I always wanted a dog.” Why had she said that? She never told anyone about her desire for a dog before! Those were private dreams and wants all tied up with her longing for a soulmate- and here she was pouring her heart out to a practical stranger! But Evelyn found that she couldn’t stop herself.

“Of course, it would probably be a terrible idea to get a dog now- I have no idea if they would get along with my cat and I live in such a small apartment. And since I’ve never had a dog before I’d probably do everything wrong and cause more harm than good.” Evelyn explained. “Not deliberately, of course, but I’m bound to mess something up and who knows what that would be?” As a case in point, she was making this conversation more and more awkward. Was it even a conversation when she was the only one talking? No, obviously not, and she was being rude. Rude, obnoxious, no tact- Evelyn clamped down on those negative thoughts. 

“I’m sorry, I’m rambling, aren’t I? You can tell me to shut up, I won’t be insulted.” Evelyn said, and chuckled. It wasn’t a real laugh. It was much too forced and awkward to be a real laugh, but at least she tried to inject some sort of levity to the awkward conversation. She was just trying to be a casual acquaintance of Cullen’s, not divulge her secret wishes and desires to him! 

“No, that’s fine.” Cullen murmured. “I like hearing you talk.” Maybe it was the softness in his voice or the warmth in his eyes, but Evelyn felt the tension in her back unwind. He didn’t think she was an idiot! She didn’t know why his opinion suddenly mattered so much, but it did. Maybe it was the fact that he was so utterly (and this sounded like a line torn out of a historical bodice ripper) respectable. Cullen Stanton Rutherford was a Templar Knight, a historically venerated and admired status in Thedas, and Evelyn was… she was a Mage.

Respect for Mages was hard won, and they were all still fighting for it every day. Maker knew her own family, who was supposed to love her unconditionally, still struggled to understand and respect her magic as a part of her. There was a reason she had a yearly visit to Ostwick and no more. Yet here was this Templar listening and smiling and not looking askance at her- but it was probably because he had no idea she was a Mage. Was she lying by not disclosing her Mage status? Not with her words, Evelyn thought as guilt ate at her, but she was lying by omission.

“Evelyn? Are you alright?” Cullen asked softly. Evelyn looked up and lost her breath for a moment. They were in the middle of the fresh produce section at the grocers. She was holding a bag of oranges. She wore yoga pants and a green shirt that said “My Cat Kneads Me” in bright yellow text. Her hair was such a mess that she hid it under a faded mustard yellow baseball cap. Yet somehow, despite the mess she clearly was, this ridiculously handsome man looked at her as if she was the only person in the room. It certainly made her heart flutter and her knees go weak. Instant attraction wasn’t something she was familiar with. It didn’t happen to people like Evelyn, people who couldn’t even get a soulmate to contact them. People like her just weren’t built for loving. But she couldn’t mistake that look in Cullen’s eyes as anything other than warm admiration and fondness. Fondness! For her!

She shouldn’t get her hopes up, but she couldn’t help the smile on her face. There was pleasure to be had in flirting, in knowing that someone liked her as much as she liked them. She shouldn’t deny herself small pleasures. She shouldn’t let her soulmate and society keep her from enjoying something as small and innocent as flirting.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Evelyn stuttered. “I mean, I’ll be fine in a moment. How are you? I didn’t realize you had a mabari- I hadn’t seen him before.”

“Bear is new.” Cullen replied. “He’s in training as a service animal, but progress is…” Cullen looked down at the grey mabari, who sat at his feet and gave Evelyn a wide smile, his large pink tongue lolling out of his mouth. The dog was the picture of doggy innocence.

“He’s a work in progress.” Cullen decided. “Maker knows he’s trying, and most of the time he’s the very model of a perfect service dog. This is the first time he’s decided to interact with a stranger- he must like you.”

“Well, I’m pleased to have met his acquaintance.” Evelyn replied. On a whim she held out her hand, palm up, to the mabari.

“A pleasure to meet you, Bear. I’m Evelyn.” She announced solemnly, and her absurdity was rewarded when the mabari tilted his head, lifted a paw, and then lightly placed it on her palm. Immediately he whipped his head up towards Cullen and his stubby tail started to wag so hard his entire bottom wiggled in excitement.

“Now you’ve done it.” Cullen teased before reaching into the back pocket of his jeans and pulling out a small plastic bag full of dog treats. “He’s highly food motivated.” He held out a treat to Evelyn and coached her through giving Bear the mabari treats. The hound delicately lifted each treat from her palm and chewed with the best of doggie manners. And sometimes, as Cullen handed her treats and Evelyn took them, their fingertips touched. She felt that touch race through her to her very bones. It felt good.

“He’s very sweet.” Evelyn commented.

“He is.” Cullen agreed. “His previous owner was some Orlesian who didn't want him when he got older."

Well, I think you're wonderful, Bear." Evelyn told the dog, who just wagged his stubby tail and grinned. "You are so cute!"

"My coworker thinks he must be part dragon, he's so large." Cullen commented. "Called him ugly too, but I think Bear has character." Evelyn looked up at Cullen, who was smiling fondly at the dog. He really was handsome, and Evelyn had a weakness for people who liked animals. And Cullen seemed to like her too, and she was sure she wasn't just imagining that spark of attraction between them. Maybe... maybe just one date wouldn't hurt.

“I was wondering…” Evelyn began, but she bit off the reply. No, she couldn’t! It was a simple sentence: I like you, want to grab a coffee sometime? Go to a movie? Have lunch? There were so many options, but her tongue felt like a wooden paddle stuck in wet concrete. She couldn’t form the words and they died in her throat. What was she thinking, asking a Templar out for company? She was being ridiculous- flirting was relatively harmless, but anything else was dangerous. Evelyn should have known better.

“How are you?” Evelyn asked instead, feeling like a coward. She couldn’t even commit to asking a man out for coffee. Coward! Idiot!

“I’m fine.” Cullen said automatically, but then he was quiet. He tilted his head slightly, as if considering something, and changed his response.

“Maybe it’s better to say that things are looking up.” He said. “Bear has been a help.” The mabari leaned into Cullen’s leg while giving Evelyn a big eyed, pleading sort of look. A “I am so cute give me a snack please” look. Cullen’s hand rested on Bear’s giant head, and when the mabari moved the sleeve of Cullen’s shirt rode up his forearm, and revealed a winding stripe of familiar jade green.

Soulmark.

Her soulmark.

On Cullen’s right wrist.

“I, uh, I’m really glad to hear that!” Evelyn squeaked out. “I should let you get back to shopping, didn’t mean to waste all your time, uh, bye!” And she hurried away before Cullen could say anything, her face burning with humiliation and her eyes filling with tears. It was only a glance, but Evelyn _knew_ what she saw. She paid for her groceries, her shopping list only half completed, and hurried home. She sat on the floor of her living room, back against the couch, and stared up at the ceiling.

Her mark. Her soulmark. On Cullen. That was hers, her ivy, her color, and it was his as well. They were soulmates, and he rejected her. Consistently. For years. She still felt the soulmark burn around her wrist- Maker help her it itched like a terrible rash right now! The hurt was easier to manage when her soulmate was hypothetical, but now they had a face. A name. Cullen. The hurt was as fresh and raw as when she stood in that soulmate matching agency in Val Royeux and was told that her soulmate had sealed their files. It _hurt_ like nothing else, and she couldn’t think of anyone she could speak to about that hurt- save for one person. Evelyn dug her phone out of her purse and scrolled through her list of contacts until she found the one person she knew would listen without judgement.

“Hello, Evelyn. Already missing my charming face? It’s only been a month since my last visit.” Dorian answered after five seconds of waiting. One was too desperate, ten rude, but five seconds was just the right amount of time before answering a phone, Evelyn remembered him saying once. It was such a Dorian thing to say, so concerned with appearances but at the same time more concerned with being a good friend.

“I just met my soulmate, Dorian.” Evelyn whispered. “And it hurts.” There was a long pause on the other end as the two of them breathed and Evelyn let the information sink in between them. There were a dozen people she could call, Evelyn thought, people who were closer and would give her a shoulder to cry on. People who could tell her bad jokes and binge watch Antivan soaps while eating bowls of over-buttered and salted popcorn. People who would let her mourn and rage and cry without comment. But none of them were Dorian Pavus, who understood rejection from a soulmate. Dorian knew her better than anyone. Dorian was the only person Evelyn knew would understand her. Dorian cleared his throat.

“I can fly in tomorrow evening. Earlier, if I fly coach.” He stated. “We can manage this, Evelyn.”

“I know. I’m going to let myself cry for a bit, if you don’t mind.” Evelyn replied softly. “Oh, Dorian, he’s gorgeous and funny and has a dog- and he flirted with me! I’m sure of it!”

“Of course he flirted with you. You are excellent at banter and compliments.” Dorian said automatically. “There’s a flight heading out tonight, but it would arrive at two in the morning your time. There’s another that arrives at noon tomorrow, I’m booking that.”

“You don’t have to, Dorian-” Evelyn began to protest, but Dorian interrupted her.

“I want to. Now you can have a lovely time cleaning your apartment for my arrival, I know you’ll love that.” Dorian insisted breezily, but Evelyn wasn’t fooled by his airy words. This was Dorian’s way of caring. He turned the conversation so she was no longer thinking about him going out of his way to help her and instead thought of all the trouble his visit would cause. Distractions were helpful, and Evelyn was grateful.

“You always know the right thing to say.” Evelyn murmured. “Any advice?”

“Drink water, not wine. Eat something. Sleep if you can.” Dorian said automatically. “Don’t confront him, it won’t go well.”

“Personal experience?” Evelyn asked.

“No, just common sense.” Dorian replied, and Evelyn could almost see the grimace on his face as he spoke. “I know I wouldn’t be able to prevent myself from getting angry.”

“Still stuck on hurt right now, but I’ll keep that in mind.” Evelyn said, and then a wave of guilt swept over her. “Dorian, what about your work- aren’t you teaching classes?”

“No, still on sabbatical. Writing that book, you know. I was meaning to head to Kirkwall for a research trip, maybe I’ll get some work done.” Dorian answered. “Don’t worry about that, Evelyn.”

“Can’t help it. I’m a worrier.” Evelyn said, but she felt a bit happier. Brighter. It wasn’t so terrible that her soulmate, the person who rejected her for so long, was a real flesh and blood person who was so likeable and seemed to like her. Dorian was coming tomorrow, she could sort through her messed up emotions with his advice and a bottle of wine. She could weather this. She’d survive.

“Mother Hen.” Dorian teased.

“Takes one to know one.” Evelyn retorted.

“I would prefer it if you called me a vain, puffed-up peacock like everyone else.” Dorian said with a sigh. “Flatter me a little.”

“I’ve seen some very beautiful roosters, Dorian. And they puff up as much as any other bird.” Evelyn replied, and Dorian laughed and the conversation devolved into giggles and terrible bird puns, and Evelyn was finally able to crack a small smile.

Everything was going to be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took so much longer to write than I thought it would, and I am so sorry for that! I also realized that this particular story couldn't be wrapped up in just two chapters, so I will have a third resolution chapter. Again, I am sorry for the delay and I hope this chapter is acceptable!
> 
> Thank you all for the comments and likes! I always appreciate hearing from readers, so thank you!


	3. Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooof, this chapter was incredibly hard to write! I didn't know where to start or even how to start it! But now I've got this out of the way, and I have one short chapter to go before it's finished!

Dorian Pavus walked through the airport terminal like it was his personal runway. From the tips of his dragonskin loafers (vintage, thank you very much) to the top of his perfectly coiffed hair, Dorian was the epitome of luxurious good taste. And if he had used a tiny bit of magic to get rid of the wrinkles in his pants and dress shirt, well, that was a secret known only to him and a few close friends. As soon as Evelyn spotted him strutting through the security gates, she let out a breathy, relieved laugh. Dorian was posh and elegant and everything that should have made her feel uneasy, but as soon as he smiled and opened his arms to catch her in a strong embrace, she felt grounded. She felt at _home_.

“Oh, Maker, am I glad to see you,” Evelyn breathed out, and Dorian’s chuckle filled her ears as he pulled out of their hug and smiled down at her.

“Why, Evelyn! I am divine, but hardly a God,” he teased, but his eyes flicked from her face to her wardrobe and back to her face again, and that smile faded into a look of concern. Evelyn tried not to flinch under that critical gaze. She probably looked awful. She hadn’t slept since the revelation that _Cullen_ was her _soulmate_ , She was never a fashionable woman, and now she was dressed in her most ragged pair of jeans and a college t-shirt, with her hair hidden under a baseball cap. She probably looked a fright! But Dorian only sighed and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“Well, let us fetch my luggage and return to your apartment,” Dorian declared. “I can tell you about my book while we walk.”

That was the nice thing about Dorian, Evelyn thought vaguely as Dorian layed out the basic theories behind his latest project- the use of magic and astrophysics to gaze further into the depths of the universe itself. Dorian could have commented on Evelyn’s haggard appearance. He could have fussed and caused a scene. But he didn’t. He took the situation in hand and helped her maintain what little dignity she had left. 

Her friends in Kirkwall- Josephine, Cassandra, Leliana, Krem, Anders, even Fenris- they would fuss. The first three would pull her in for an impromptu after work tea party. Krem would just talk to her softly during lunch, and then she would cry and spill out all her feelings in a flood over her sandwich. Anders would stuff her with food and let her pet his cat, Pounce, while ranting about the injustice of the soulmate system. Fenris would… well, he’d probably give her a bottle of wine or two and say nothing. He did that last year when she was particularly morose and sitting on her balcony. Together they split a bottle of red wine and watched the sun set over Kirkwall’s bay. It was a nice bit of camaraderie, but Evelyn regretted the hangover afterwards. Wine never did sit well with her.

Of course Evelyn was grateful for all of these things. She was grateful for all of her friends! They were wonderful people! But they weren’t Dorian, and right now, Evelyn needed her best friend the way she needed air in her lungs. She leaned in against Dorian’s broader frame and let him take charge as they walked through the airport and towards the baggage claim.

“It is so good to see you, Dorian,” Evelyn confessed, interrupting Dorian’s detailed explanation of why he needed pure gold foil to encase heat runes in a research satellite.

“Of course it is,” Dorian said jovially, but she heard the concern under the veneer of levity. Andraste’s Tits, she really must look a wreck if Dorian’s composure was rattled. She tried to smile, and even though it wobbled she managed one.

“I’m… fine, Dorian. Better than yesterday,” she insisted as Dorian bent down over the baggage claim and tugged his fine leather suitcase off the belt. He raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow and observed her.

“If that is better, Evelyn, I am grateful that I didn’t see you yesterday,” he said bluntly. “Let’s get to your apartment. Tell me everything there.”

Driving back to the apartment was a blur. Traffic in Kirkwall was always murder, but taking the subway was also a pain in the ass, especially in the summer. Besides, the closest station was three blocks from her apartment, so it would mean dragging Dorian’s suitcase uphill in 100% humidity. Not happening. So Evelyn drove her old blue hatchback back to her apartment, and Dorian commented on the state of the city. And once they were all settled into her pleasant, air-conditioned living room, with Dorian lounging on her futon and Evelyn sitting on the floor, Dorian turned his head and looked at her, his gray eyes piercing and expression solemn.

“So,” Dorian said softly, “what happened?”

Evelyn told him everything. She grabbed a giant decorative pillow covered in colorful flowers and birds, hugged it to her chest, and talked until her voice was hoarse. Blackberry curled up in the chair behind her, purring loudly in her ear as she spoke. She only stopped to drink from her glass of water. She talked until she was certain she brought Dorian up to date with everything concerning her soulmate.

Evelyn started with the party, that Hawke Gala all those months ago. She didn’t want to go, but felt obligated to pop in. After all, she had promised her grandmother she would pay her respects to Leandra Amell-Hawke. So Evelyn pulled out that green lace dress that she only wore once before (at Dorian’s birthday party back in Skyhold) and the horrendous towering high heels Josephine and Leliana convinced her to buy. Evelyn remembered wanting to look polished. Feminine. Maybe even a little intimidating, so that she could go home early, curl up on the futon with Blackberry, and watch a few episodes of “Haunted House Hunters” before going to bed. But then she was at the party, and she saw those gardens (oh and how she wished she could have spoken with Leandra Amell-Hawke after she saw those beautiful azaleas), and she got lost in the maze of hedges and trees and winding pathways.

“Typical,” Dorian teased at that part of the story, and Evelyn laughed. Her tendency to get lost and wander about until she stumbled upon what she was looking for was nearly legendary. She could circle the same city block five times before finding where she meant to go. Clearly the same thing happened in the Hawke gardens, for try as she might she could not find her was back to the house and the party, until- well.

“We ran into each other. Quite literally,” Evelyn explained. “He was all apologies and politeness, and I probably babbled on like an idiot, so he must have felt sorry for me and helped me to the fountain in the middle of the maze.”

“That,” Dorian remarked, “is disgustingly romantic. Incredibly cheesy.”

“He offered to carry me back to the house, Dorian. It was that cheesy,” Evelyn replied flatly. And it had been so charming- a handsome man offering to help her, even though it was only good manners- well, it was flattering! Evelyn was hardly made of stone! Knowing that Cullen was her soulmate shouldn’t have changed those memories, that sense of being flattered, but somehow the knowledge transformed the moment. Did he know? No, of course not, that was absurd. But if he did know, would he have left her there? Evelyn couldn’t so easily dismiss those thoughts.

“So he swept you in his arms like the strapping young Templar he is, carried you to the house, and tended to your blistered feet,” Dorian said dryly, and Evelyn laughed.

“Not quite, but close enough. I threatened to crawl back to the house if he carried me like some sort of swooning maiden. He just… helped me up,” Evelyn explained, and she thought of the way his laughter rumbled through her as they walked, the sort of half-limping gait they had together, the way it was so easy to _talk_ to him. It was as if she had known him for ages, as if she had spoken to him before.

Well, perhaps they had.

So Evelyn continued to speak. She talked about seeing Cullen on television and realizing that “Cullen from the Hawke Gala” was “Commander Rutherford of the Kirkwall Templars.” She told Dorian how she realized that Cullen would be terrified of her if he knew that she was Mage. She talked about her introduction to Cullen’s sister, and how she was so friendly, and how Cullen was still so easy to talk to. She talked about how her soulmark no longer felt like dead skin on her wrist, that it no longer burned with pain. It sometimes felt warm. Pleasant.

And then she told him about seeing the Mark.

“That was yesterday,” Evelyn confessed. “When I think about I... “

“Yes?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I didn’t know what to do! We were talking, he was smiling, his dog was so cute, I was just about to ask if he wanted to grab some coffee sometime, and then I saw his wrist and just _froze_!” Evelyn leaned her head back until she was staring up at the ceiling. She felt Blackberry’s wet nose sniff at her hair, and then her loud purr rumbled in her ear. She reached up over her head and scratched behind Blackberry’s ear.

“So you panicked and ran,” Dorian said dryly. “And then you holed up in your apartment and panicked some more.” And when Evelyn glared at him, Dorian rolled his eyes.

“You have a pattern, Evelyn,” he explained. “And I would have done the same, were the roles reversed. Of course, I would manage it with far more grace.” 

“With velvet curtains drawn over the windows? And a fainting couch?” Evelyn asked, and Dorian snorted.

“You forgot the silk robe. And some wine. It’s hardly healthy but it’s how I cope,” he said. “So, what are you planning to do about all this?”

It was a good question. Now that she laid everything before her, as it were, Evelyn knew that _something_ had to be done. She couldn’t just let things remain as they were. She couldn’t just let the awkwardness and hurt and longing hang between her and Cullen. He was her soulmate! Maker’s Breath, her soulmate! After all this time. Though there was a part of her (a part that was larger than she’d like to admit) that wanted to be petty, Evelyn knew she couldn’t go through with it. She would have to speak with him. It would be awkward. It would be painful. It was not something she looked forward to, but it had to be done. If she was speaking to one of her patients, she would encourage open communication. It would be hypocritical to avoid this conversation.

“I’ll have to talk to him,” Evelyn said softly. “We’re both rational adults. We’ll lay our cards on the table and decide what we want to do about… this.” Evelyn gestured at her soulmark to illustrate her point.

“Right now?” Dorian asked, his eyebrows raised. “Rather quick, isn’t it?”

“No, not right now,” Evelyn replied. She had to plan. Write out a speech. She had to go into this conversation knowing what she wanted to say and what outcomes she desired. She had to figure everything out, or else she would collapse into a crying mess. And that would be a hundred times more humiliating than any rejection she had ever felt.

“I think,” Evelyn said carefully, “that I’ve been in my apartment for too long.”

Dorian grinned and pulled himself off the futon. “That, my dear, was what I was hoping you would say. Drinks?”

“I know just the place,” Evelyn replied.

-

Isabela’s bar, The Sultry Mermaid, was always busy. But it seemed everyone in Kirkwall wanted to escape the heat and humidity, and so they made their way into the cool interior or the shaded patio to enjoy a drink and relax. It took a bit of effort to squeeze into the door, but between her ability to squirm between people and Dorian’s “Fuck Off” aura, they managed to find a seat in the corner. Evelyn looked over at the crowded bar and grinned with relief when she saw who was serving.

“Guess Fenris got the night off,” she said when she caught a glimpse of bright blond hair and heard a burst of raucous laughter. “It’s Sera and Dagna, I’ll get the drinks.” Dorian waved his hand, and Evelyn went back into the crowd, ducking and weaving until she found a free space.

“Evie! Nice treat, seein’ you here!” Sera crowed, and she bounced over and leaned over the bar, elbows on the polished wood countertop. Evelyn smiled.

“It’s a nice evening, and I have a friend visiting,”

“What, Messere Fancy Pants over in the corner? The one who looks like he popped out of one of them fashion magazines?” Sera asked with a little smirk spread across her face. Evelyn couldn’t help the laugh bubbling in her throat. Dorian would probably be insulted by the comment- he was _far_ more fashionable than any fashion editor could ever hope to be, after all!

“Yes, that’s Dorian,” Evelyn agreed, “and even though he’s going to raise a fuss I know that he wants to drink a Ferelden Pale Ale,” Evelyn looked over the list of beers on tap and selected one, ordered a mixed drink with rum, and took the drinks back to her table. Dorian took his beer and raised the glass.

“To planning?” Dorian suggested. “Planning your confrontation with this soulmate fellow of yours, the strapping young Templar, of course.”

“To planning,” Evelyn agreed, and she took a sip. The alcohol burned in her mouth, but her spirits felt a little lighter than before.

“And he’s hardly ‘mine,’ Dorian,” Evelyn added after the drink went down. “Fate might have paired us together, but we’re not- we have choices. I want to present all our options to him. Make a… a road map.”

Now that she said it out loud, it felt less ephemeral. It was out in the world. It was a solid idea. Evelyn grabbed her phone and opened a notebook app. Dorian leaned over to look at the screen, and she turned it so he could watch what she wrote down.

“First, we start with an outline,” Evelyn declared with more confidence than she felt. “Bullet Point One: I am a Mage.”

“Vishante Kaffas, right out the gate,” Dorian muttered, but he joined in on drafting her talking points. “Indent. ‘I was born a Mage, and I’m damn good at being one.’”

“Footnote: Magic is a gift of the Maker. Might be too much?” Evelyn murmured as she typed it into her phone and went to the next bullet point.

“We can dig up some sermons from the Dragon Age onward. Perhaps even before then,” Dorian mused. “But then you’ll lose track of what you’re saying, and who wants to quote some dusty old bint of a Divine?”

“Dorian!”

“Oh, pardon, we must add Archons as well. Or are we still calling them ‘The Black Divines’ in the south?” Dorian asked cheerfully before taking another swig of his beer. “Speaking of religion, Bullet Point Two- We are Soulmates.”

“Mmmm,” Evelyn hummed, and she wrote that down.

That was how they spent their evening out. With Dorian’s input, Evelyn jotted down every fragmentary thought, every nameless feeling, all her hurt and self-doubt and despair, and she streamlined it. They made it easier to talk about. Where before she had an idea, now Evelyn had a three page outline to a conversation. And when they returned to her apartment, Dorian crashed on her futon and she slept in her bed, and it felt like it did back when they were in Skyhold, and she was brand new to the town and he was escaping his estranged parents.

And it was good. Evelyn rolled over onto her side and stared at the green ivy winding around her wrist, like she always did.

“Tomorrow,” she promised. “Tomorrow, Cullen, we are going to talk.”

-

How do you return to a normal life when your world has been turned upside down? How do you go back to the daily routine when every action, every waking thought, reminded you that there was a world out there that was far greater than your own? How did you turn your face back to the heat of the day when you finally discovered the cool calm of the night?

Perhaps he was getting a bit poetic and philosophical, but Cullen couldn’t come up with an answer to these questions that plagued him. He had always prided himself on his ability to think on his feet. He was good at adapting. He was good at figuring out what came next and, logically, what should follow afterwards. But this?

Oh Maker help him, he was no good at this.

“So,” Carver Hawke said, drawing out the ‘o’ sound in a way that Cullen knew was designed to annoy him, “you’re not wearing that wrist cuff, Commander.”

“No,” Cullen replied shortly. He hoped that his curt, one-word answer would drive Carver Hawke out of his office and back into his own, but Carver just made himself comfortable against the doorframe, his smirk a twin to his older brother’s characteristic smile. If Carver wasn’t such a talented and dedicated Templar officer, Cullen would have reprimanded him. But Carver wasn’t doing anything wrong, just standing there, and, well, Cullen wasn’t going to take out his bad mood on anyone else.

“Wasn’t it part of the uniform?” Carver asked, because he clearly didn’t know when to leave it alone.

“It’s optional,” Cullen said shortly. “I’m exercising my options and have decided to take the cuff _off_.” He wore that thick leather band around his wrist for years, ever since Kinloch, ever since he realized his soulmate was a Mage. He wore it with his Templar uniform and tried to forget that he had a soulmark under the leather, but he never did. The leather might have hidden the mark, but it couldn’t erase it from his mind. His soulmark was there. His soulmate was still there. Evelyn.

Wearing that band felt disgusting now that he had a face to go with the mark around his wrist.

As if sensing the wave of anxiety and doubt that swept over him, Bear heaved himself up from his plush bed by his desk and dropped his enormous head on Cullen’s lap. Cullen’s hand went immediately to behind Bear’s ears, and he scratched in slow, circular motions. Slow. Easy. Bear heaved a sigh, and Cullen found himself relaxing.

“I decided to get rid of it,” Cullen said. “There’s no need to wear it any more.”

“Huh. That wouldn’t have anything to do with that woman waiting at the front desk, would it?” Carver asked.

“No- wait, who?” Cullen jumped out of his chair, dislodging Bear’s head from his lap in his haste. It clattered on the floor behind him, and Bear let out a low woof that sounded like it didn’t approve of all this noise..

“There’s a woman out front. Small, dark hair, wearing a big floppy hat-” Carver expanded on his statement, but Cullen barely heard him as he pushed past Carver and hurried towards the front of desk. Behind him he could hear Carver cursing and Bear barking in excitement. In his haste to get out of his office Cullen toppled a stack of paperwork. But Cullen didn’t care- he had to get to the front desk. He had to move forward.

And there she was. Cullen almost forgot how to breathe as he took in the sight of Evelyn in a wide brimmed straw hat. She wore a yellow sundress. Her dark hair hung over her shoulder in a thick braid. And when she looked up at him, she raised her hand and shyly waved. Her wrist was bare, save for that jade green strand of ivy on her dark skin. And Cullen couldn’t help it. He raised his hand, the wrist with his soulmark, and he waved back.

“Hey,” he murmured, and Evelyn smiled. There were lines around her dark eyes, little crow’s feet, and she had dimples.

“Hey,” Evelyn replied. “I… want to have some lunch? If you have the time, I mean, and if you’re hungry. If you’ve already eaten- did I come at a bad time? I can-” As she spoke, her dark eyes grew wider, as if she was panicking and trying not to show it. Was she going to run? Maker’s Breath, he couldn’t- she came here, she clearly wanted to talk- he couldn’t just let her leave without hearing what she wanted to say. She came this far. He had to let her know that he was willing to talk.

“No!” Cullen exclaimed. “That’s- lunch is fine. Good. Lunch is good.”

“Oh,” Evelyn exhaled, and then inhaled deeply. “Oh. That’s… good.” Her grip on her handbag eased slightly.

“I… sandwiches? There’s a place around the corner,” Cullen suggested, and when Evelyn smiled, he smiled back.

“That sounds excellent,” Evelyn replied.

“I just need to leash up Bear first,” Cullen said hastily. “Wait here?” When Evelyn nodded, he hurried back to his office, stepping around Carver to pick up Bear’s harness, leash, and bag of supplies. He slipped the harness on and clipped the leash on.

“Taking a lunch break,” Cullen told Carver. “I’ll be back before one.”

“Yeah, yeah, take your lunch break for once,” Carver retorted, but Cullen could have sworn the man was smiling as he organized the scattered papers on the floor. He hurried to the lobby, Bear trotting at his heels, and when Evelyn caught sight of them she grinned.

“Ready to go?” she asked.

“Ready,” Cullen agreed, and they walked out into the summer sunlight. They walked together down the sidewalk, side by side, and Cullen couldn’t help but ask the question that was lingering in his head from the moment Carver told him that he had a visitor.

“Why did you want to speak with me? That is, I think I know why, but…” Cullen struggled to find his words as Evelyn looked up at him, “what convinced you to speak with me?”

“It’s a bit of a story,” Evelyn confessed, “but I talked to an old friend, and he helped me think things through.” She didn’t elaborate any further, and Cullen didn’t press for answers. He allowed himself to simply enjoy the walk in the sunshine.

It wasn’t until they were sitting at a table outside of the restaurant with their sandwiches that Evelyn spoke again. She took a deep breath, glanced at her iced tea, grabbed the glass, and took a long drink before setting it down.

“We need to talk,” she said brusquely. “About this. Us.” 

Before Cullen could reply or even form a reply, she barreled on. It was as if she had a speech memorized and had to blurt it out before she forgot it or lost her nerve. Cullen saw how Evelyn’s hand trembling slightly against the table. He noticed how she wasn’t looking at him, but rather fixing her gaze at a point directly above his head. Bear leaned against his leg and sighed deeply as Evelyn spoke gave her memorized speech. She was obviously nervous, which made Cullen uneasy. No, not just uneasy. Sad. She didn’t know what he was going to do or how he would react. Evelyn was, in some ways, afraid of him, and that realization hurt. But her distrust was not unearned, Cullen reminded himself, and he owed it to her to listen to what she had to say.

“Point One: I’m a Mage. And I’m a talented one. I specialize in Arcane and Elemental classes, though I understand healing in a theoretical sense, I never could get my magic to work that way but-“ Evelyn sighed. “That’s besides the point. I got off track, I’m sorry.”

“Please, continue,” Cullen said softly, and he waited for Evelyn to gather her thoughts.

“I’m a Mage. I was born a Mage, and I’ll always be a Mage, and I am not ashamed of that,” Evelyn stated firmly. “But I understand if you have reservations about all… all of this.” She looked up at him expectantly, and Cullen found himself lost in her dark eyes. She looked tired. Had Evelyn slept like he did, tossing and turning and unable to find a moment’s peace ever since- well.

“It… it is complicated,” Cullen admitted. “And it will take time. There is history between us, though we’ve only known each other for a few months.” Ten years, Cullen thought grimly. Ten years since Kinloch. Ten years since he closed his soulmate file and pretended like he was mateless. Ten years of denial on his part, and as for her? Those ten years were a mystery to Cullen.

“I can be patient,” Evelyn promised, “as long as you aren’t planning on disappearing before we resolve what’s between us.”

“You have some ideas on that?” Cullen asked, and Evelyn nodded.

“I came to three conclusions yesterday, though I am open to your input,” she said matter-of-factly, as if she had it all planned out. As if her life, and his, were so easy to organize. As if it were all _simple_ , and Cullen was just too stubborn and stupid to resolve it by himself.

“How generous,” Cullen muttered, unable to keep the bite of sarcasm from his voice. Evelyn’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, and Cullen grimaced. That was uncharitable of him.

“I am trying,” Evelyn retorted. “It’s… ten years. It’s a long time.”

“It is,” Cullen agreed. The quiet between them was heavy, until Bear let out a short, snuffly sort of bark that broke the silence.

“I should rephrase that. I’ve thought of three possible options we can pursue, but I can’t see what else we can do. I don’t know how to move forward,” Evelyn explained softly. “All I know is that we can’t keep going on like this, avoiding each other and pretending that the other doesn’t exist.”

“I know,” Cullen agreed. “But where do we even start?” He knew that he couldn’t continue changing his schedule and pretending that Evelyn didn’t exist, that his soulmate didn’t live across the street from him, but that situation wasn’t tenable. They couldn’t live that way forever. He couldn’t just stay like this, pretending.

“The beginning is usually good,” Evelyn said, “but that might be too soon for us.”

“After ten years?” Cullen wanted to laugh at the idea that it was too soon for them to have a serious conversation about their future, but she was probably right. What lay between them was ten years of hurt. Traversing that would take time and hard work, but it had to be done. And if anyone was to extend some good will- well. Cullen scratched behind Bear’s ears. Evelyn invited him out to lunch. He… he ought to say something.

“I was stationed at Kinloch Hold when the war broke out in Ferelden. Combined with the Blight Plague, it… we were overwhelmed. The Mage soldiers stationed with us did what they could, but some… some fell. Some turned to summoning demons, and-” Cullen breathed in slowly, petting Bear’s head methodically.

“I thought you were in Ferelden,” Evelyn murmured. “The Mark started hurting after the war broke out, so I thought… well, it correlated.” She bit her bottom lip, her hand unconsciously wrapping around her wrist to touch the Mark. Her soulmark, his soulmark, _their_ soulmark.

“It… I had many reservations about my obligations as a Templar and how to fulfill my responsibilities as a soulmate,” Cullen said softly, and oh, he wanted to reach out and help, she looked so small and isolated across the table from him, he wanted so much- but he would not push. Evelyn had the right to decide what she wanted without him pushing her.

“When I realized that my soulmate, that _you_ , were a Mage, it was after the situation in Kinloch. I panicked. I saw shadows and danger in every Mage, and I was terrified of what that said about me. I didn’t want to linger on what I went through, so I decided to lock my file. It wasn’t fair to you, and I am sorry,” Cullen stated. “Then I transferred to Kirkwall, ended up under Commander Stannard’s leadership, and… well, I never confronted my choices. I grew comfortable. Complacent. Didn’t even question what I did out of fear and anger. I thought I was _reasonable_.”

Cullen still hated himself for his arrogance. He hated that he thought that he knew better. He hated that his fear and anger kept him from knowing someone like Evelyn. He hated that he hurt her, and he knew that he had. How could ten years of constant rejection not hurt someone?

“After Stannard was ousted, I was busy picking up the pieces. I went into therapy, and then- well, then I started working on myself. Questioning what I knew. Then- well, I went to a party because the Hawke siblings wouldn’t let me avoid them- and I met you.” Cullen finished the story. Evelyn looked a little stunned. Overwhelmed, even. But she seemed to gather herself together.

“I… I can’t say I forgive you. Not yet. But… well, thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” Evelyn said, and then she smiled. It was weak, but it was still a smile.

“You don’t have that long of a lunch break, Cullen,” she remarked, “and you haven’t eaten yet.”

“This is more important,” Cullen replied. “I can eat while walking.”

“I hardly think that would be comfortable,” Evelyn pointed out. Cullen looked down at her untouched food and raised an eyebrow, and a deep flush crept across her face.

“Perhaps we should eat. Have a normal, friendly conversation,” Evelyn murmured.

“Perhaps you can tell me about those three ideas that you came up with?” Cullen suggested, and that flush only grew deeper- she was cute when she blushed. She was normally so composed around others- it was fascinating to see how she changed around him.

“Oh! Oh, yes. That,” Evelyn said uneasily. “We don’t have to, you know.”

“No, I think we should,” Cullen insisted, and Evelyn took a large bite of her sandwich in response. So it was a waiting game, was it? Well, Evelyn might be patient, but Cullen was very good at being patient when he needed to be. So he nibbled at his sandwich and waited for Evelyn to speak.

“Fine, fine!” Evelyn muttered. “We can’t dance around each other forever, so I thought that either, one, we break this off completely and-”

“Absolutely not,” Cullen said flatly. “Not happening. Second option?” It was only after the words flew out of his mouth that Cullen was seized by a sense of panic. What if that was what she wanted? What if Evelyn only wanted to meet to settle their business, as it were? What if- but the Evelyn’s small frame shuddered and she relaxed in her seat.

“Oh thank the Maker,” Evelyn breathed out in relief, “I was- you see, after all this- well, it’s been ten years! I thought that you would want me to leave you alone!”

“I… no. Not that,” Cullen murmured. He couldn’t just throw this chance away. Mia’s words echoed through his head. Evelyn was still here after all this time. That dedication meant something!

“Option two?”

“We jump in. Soulmate stuff. Dates and… and all that,” Evelyn admitted in a voice that was barely above a whisper. “I’m not comfortable with that just yet, but I can try. It’s- you’re attractive. I find you attractive. It wouldn’t be a hardship.”

“No. Not if it’s something you have to do under duress,” Cullen said firmly. He was not going to settle for a relationship that was best described as ‘not a hardship.’ That would be miserable for them both! Physical attraction only lasted for so long, after all. They would be insecure. Resentment would grow between them. It would end in a disaster. So no. No romantic entanglements. Not yet.

“It wouldn’t be against my will, you know,” Evelyn muttered. “I’m perfectly capable of maintaining a romantic relationship, thank you.”

“But you don’t want it,”Cullen stated, and Maker, that hurt to say. But he said it, because it had to be said.

“I don’t want it _yet_ ,” Evelyn corrected gently. “I don’t want to move quickly. I want to have a clear head about this.”

“So what is your last suggestion?” he asked.

“We take this slow. Get to know each other. Become… well, be friends,” Evelyn explained. “Form a relationship beyond the soulmate marks.”

A friendship. That was an idea Cullen liked. They could build a relationship outside of the bounds of soulmate marks and destiny. They might share marks, but they could decide what to do about that. They could have a relationship where they both had control, a relationship where they were equals. That could work. Cullen could make that work.

“I like the sound of that,” he said slowly. “That sounds good. Friends?”

“Friends. We should introduce ourselves. Make it official,” Evelyn said, “or something like that.” She stuck her hand out to him across the table, and Cullen took it. It was warm and calloused, and her handshake was firm.

"I'm Evelyn Adelaide Trevelyan," Evelyn said firmly. "I was born in Ostwick, I'm a Mage, and I work as a therapist. I like plants and long hikes through the parks here in Kirkwall. I have a cat named Blackberry."

"Hello, Evelyn," Cullen replied, only feeling a little silly. "My name is Cullen Stanton Rutherford. I was born in Honnleath, I am a Templar and specialize in studying demon attacks. I swim and play chess. I have a mabari. Obviously. His name is Bear." Bear, who had been contentedly snoozing in a patch of sunlight, lifted his head and boofed when he was mentioned. He was ridiculously smart.

Evelyn smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Cullen."

Cullen smiled back. "Likewise, Evelyn."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with me and reading! I'm sorry for the delay.


	4. Chapter 4

What is interesting about their relationship is that it gets easier with time. 

Evelyn finds that it’s easy to text a simple good morning or good afternoon to Cullen, and the texts she gets back are easy to accept. Sometimes she sees him from her balcony, and when she waves hello he waves back. Sometimes they meet for coffee, or even lunch, and when Cullen smiles Evelyn’s heart flutters somewhere near the base of her throat. She didn’t think that this would be easy, getting to know your soulmate, but it feels like they’ve known each other all their lives. Those awkward first conversations transformed into something more poignant and less painful. 

Evelyn talked about her childhood desire for an army of dogs and cats she could take on adventures around the world. Cullen shared his misadventures with his siblings and desire to carve out his own space where he could enjoy a bit of quiet with his own thoughts. Evelyn confessed that she had a collection of romance novels in a cardboard box stuffed under her bed (and oh how she flushed with shame when she said those words!). Cullen admitted to listening to his younger sister’s collection of boy band music and un-ironically loving it. Evelyn even spoke of the Circle and, oh it could have been worse, it always could have been worse, but it was so very _lonely_. Cullen shyly admitted that, even in his boisterous, loving family, he had always felt a little lonely himself, a little lost and worried that he could never find a place in the world.

It was strange to realize that her soulmate was as awkward and unsure as she was. It was also strangely comforting. Despite everything that was different and all the hurt between them, Evelyn was certain that there was something worth working towards. Maybe it was silly of her be so certain. Maybe she should exercise more caution and keep her hopes low. But maybe, just maybe, she should let herself be a little vulnerable. Maybe, just maybe, vulnerability was what they needed.

Maybe, Evelyn thinks, loving her soulmate isn’t as impossible as she once feared. Telling him, however, was going to be much more difficult.

-

Cullen finds that it’s easy to talk to his soulmate. It shouldn’t have been. Cullen thought that he was too full of fear and anger to make any sort of noteworthy progress, but no. He could talk to her. He could look her in the eye and see her, his soulmate Evelyn, and see that she was not the malevolent Mage he was fleeing from all his adult life. She was a Mage, and she was a skilled one. She used magic to reheat her tea whenever she forgot that she left it steeping somewhere (which was apparently more often than she cared to admit). She would ice her bruises with frost. She was incredibly practical about her magic, and every time she shared a bit of herself Cullen wanted to talk about his life as well.

When she talked about her childhood, he listened. Maker, did it hurt to learn about her loneliness, but he listened. He learned about the chilly relationships in her family and how desperate she was to find him. He acknowledged how much pain he caused with his constant rejection of their bond. And he shared his own stories as well: how his siblings always managed to find him, even when he went exploring in the woods outside of Honnleath. He talked about Mia’s fiery temper, Bran’s easy-going nature, Rosalie’s love of all animals. He talked about his parents, and how much he missed them. He opened up about how he avoided them, how his fear kept him from moving forward or trying to repair any of the relationships in his life. 

And even though it was hard, Cullen shared bits of himself. And even though it was hard, Evelyn listened. And over time, sharing and listening grew easier until Cullen woke up one day and wanted to turn over and say good morning to his soulmate instead of texting hello. He realized that instead of just a brush of fingers over the hand or a kiss on the cheek, he wanted to hold her hand and kiss her mouth. Cullen wanted more, and he wanted it with Evelyn.

Falling in love with his soulmate wasn’t as hard as he feared, but telling her would be harder. Much harder. 

-

It was actually easier than expected, which was typical of them. Accidental too, which seemed to fall into their regular pattern of things. All this planning, all this worrying, all the schemes and machinations, and they tended to be on the same page after all. They were two over-planners planning the same itinerary concurrently. It does, however, make for a very good story, and they (and their friends) love telling it.

“She texted me by mistake,” Cullen would explain, “asking Dorian for advice.” If the people they’re talking to don’t know Dorian (and who doesn’t know _Dorian Pavus_?!), Cullen says “her friend.” If Dorian is present, Dorian snorts and declares that of course Evelyn asked for his advice, because who _wouldn’t_ desire his wisdom and insight?

Usually Evelyn chimes in before they all go off on a tangent. “I had a plan,” she explains. Cullen always grins at this statement.

“Always with a plan,” he teases.

“It was a well-curated outline with a title and bullet points,” Evelyn would declare, but she always says it with some amusement.

“‘How to Seduce my Soulmate in 14 Steps,’” Cullen quotes, and when the laughter and shock dies down he continues to speak. “It was a text document.”

“It was a detailed plan! It would have gone perfectly,” Evelyn states, and this is usually when Cullen loops his arm around her waist and kisses the top of her head.

“You could have skipped to Step 14,” Cullen will murmur, and then the conversation will move onto other topics. But Cullen will keep his arm around Evelyn, and Evelyn will lean against him. 

When they are done socializing, they return to their shared apartment. He moved into her apartment because it felt like a home, but they’re looking into houses to rent with a backyard for Bear, a guest room for their family and friends, a room with full sun for Evelyn’s plants, and a kitchen that Cullen can tear apart and transform. But for now they live in their apartment, and they curl up in the same bed, and when they fall asleep they say good night and when they wake up they tell each other good morning. And life isn’t always easy, but it’s worth it.

It is always worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the concluding chapter! It's a little short, and I'll probably revisit the story again and add some one-shots as I usually do, but I'm glad that I can finally call this story done!


End file.
